ANERICAN  PIC  rURE^ 
AND 

ORINDA  MUNSON  BRYANT 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/americanpicturespaiOObrya 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  AND 
THEIR  PAINTERS 


BY    THE   SAME  AUTHOR 


WHAT  PICTURES  TO  SEE  IN 

AMERICA  $3.00  net 

PICTURES  AND  THEIR  PAINT- 
ERS $3.00  net 

WHAT  PICTURES  TO  SEE  IN 

EUROPE  IN  ONE  SUMMER 

$1.35  net 

WHAT  SCULPTURE  TO  SEE 

IN  EUROPE  $1.35  net 

FAMOUS  PICTURES  OF  REAL 
BOYS  AND  GIRLS  $1.25  net 

In  Preparation 

FAMOUS  PICTURES  OF  REAL 
ANIMALS 


John  Lane  Company,  Publishers,  New  York 


Ernesta.   Beaux.   Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  Frontispiece. 

(See  page  204) 


AMERICAN  PICTURES 
AND  THEIR  PAINTERS 


BY 

LORINDA  MUNSON  BRYANT 

AUTHOR  OF 

"What  Pictures  to  See  in  America," 
"What  Pictures  to  See  in  Europe 
in  One  Summer,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK:   JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 

LONDON:  JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 
TORONTO:     S.  B.  GUNDY      :    I  MCMXVII 


Copyright,  191 7,  by 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Co.,  New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


TO  MY  LIFE-LONG  FRIEND 
AMELIA  TIGHT  RALSTON 
WHOSE  COMPREHENSIVE 
KNOWLEDGE  OF  ART  IS  MY 
CONSTANT  INSPIRATION 


INTRODUCTION 


'T^HE  welcome  accorded  What  Pictures 
^  To  S^t  IN  America  and  the  desire  to 
know  more  of  our  own  artists  that  the  book 
has  aroused  are  the  real  incentives  for  bring- 
ing out  American  Pictures  and  Their 
Painters. 

Our  people  never  were  more  keenly  alive  to 
the  value  of  our  native  art;  all  over  the  country 
public  galleries,  dealers  and  private  owners  are 
giving  more  and  more  prominence  to  their 
American  paintings  and  on  all  sides  there  is 
an  awakened  interest  in  American  art.  To  be 
ignorant  of  our  leading  artists  is  not  to  be  fully 
abreast  of  the  times.  Then,  too,  no  correct 
valuation  of  our  native  work  can  be  gained 
without  reckoning  with  the  general  public, 
for  the  public  is  the  final  court  of  appeal. 
American  Pictures  and  Their  Painters 
is  designed  to  provide  a  working  basis  for  the 
appreciation  of  American  art.  To  accomplish 
this  I  have  attempted  especially  to  trace  the 
careers  of  the  leaders  in  their  respective 


INTRODUCTION 

eras — artists  who  even  now  are  modern  old 
masters.  It  is  high  time  that  we  as  a  nation 
should  realize  that  many  of  our  American 
painters  are  not  only  standing  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  the  geniuses  of  Europe  and  Asia, 
but  are  to-day  the  world's  leaders  in  art.  Nat- 
urally it  is  too  early  as  yet  to  judge  the  younger 
artists  correctly,  consequently  only  a  limited 
number  are  here  represented;  those  are  in- 
cluded who  indicate  the  trend  of  thought  in  art 
to-day.  If  only  our  people  will  take  an  intelli- 
gent interest  in  the  work  of  our  modern  Ameri- 
can artists,  we  shall  have  fewer  sins  of  omis- 
sion in  recognizing  real  worth  and  shall  gain 
much  credit  in  discovering  and  encouraging 
latent  talent. 

I  take  this  occasion  to  extend  my  thanks  to 
the  museums,  galleries  and  dealers  and  to  sev- 
eral of  the  artists  themselves  who  have  assisted 
me  with  data,  pictures  and  advice,  and  es- 
pecially do  I  acknowledge  the  kind  courtesy  of 
the  Detroit  Publishing  Company,  who  have 
made  it  possible  for  me  to  use  the  photographs 
of  many  paintings  of  which  they  own  the  copy- 
right. 

LORINDA  MUNSON  BrYANT. 
New  York  City. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  West,  Copley,  Peal,  Trumbull  .    .  21 

II.  Stuart,  Sully   30 

III.  Cole,  Church,  Doughty,  Leutze, 

Hunt,  Bierstadt,  Hill,  Moran   .  33 

IV.  Inness   48 

V.  Keith,  Martin,  Wyant,  Bunce  .    .  56 

VI.  Homer   64 

VII.  Fuller,  Johnson,  Vedder,  Coleman  71 

VIII.  La  Faroe,  Ryder   79 

IX.  Whistler   88 

X.  Hovenden,  Mosler,  Millet,  Duve- 

NECK,  Thayer   gg 

XI.  Robinson,  Harrison,  Brush,  Mel- 

chers,  Marr,  Tanner   .    .   ' .    .  105 

XII.  Beckwith,  Chase,  Cox     ....  113 

XIII.  Blakelock,  Tryon,  Murphy,  Wig- 

gins, Dewey   121 

XIV.  Inness,  Jr.,  Walker,  Foster,  Carl- 

sen,  Van  Lear,  Lathrop,  Dain- 

GERFIELD,  CrANE   I32 

XV.  Davis,  Ranger   139 

XVI.  Abbey,  Blashfield,  Volk      .    .    .  150 

XVII.  Sargent   157 

XVIII.  Alexander,  Blum   164 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.  Hassam,  Weir,  Dewing,  DeCamp    .  171 

XX.   TWACHTMAN,  BeNSON,  TaRBELL,  ReID, 

Metcalf,  Simmons  181 

XXI.  Symons,  Redfield,  Ochtman,  Scho- 
FiELD,  Harrison,  Rosen,  Carlson, 

Ryder  188 

XXII.  Beaux,  Hawthorne,  Cassatt     .    .  203 

XXIII.  Groll,  Williams,  Genth,  Lie,  Kroll  213 

XXIV.  Davies,  Bohm,  Frieseke,  Miller, 

MacCameron,  Mora     ....  220 
XXV.  Bellows,  Luks,  Nourse,  Beal,  Mc- 
Lean  228 

XXVI.  Spencer,  Hopkins,  Dessar,  Garber, 

Speicher,  Brown  234 

XXVII.  Snell,     Lever,     Yates,  Waugh, 

Dougherty,  Koopman  ....  242 
XXVIII.  Leigh,  Couse,  Burroughs,  Parrish  250 
XXIX.  Wiles,    Dearth,   Turner,  Henri, 

Walter,  Seyffert,  Norton     .    .  260 
XXX.  Pearson,  Tack,  Bittinger,  Boronda, 

Peterson,  Bernstein    ....  270 
XXXI.  Sloan,  Congdon,  Fry,  Eyre,  Rou- 

land,  Davey  280 

XXXII.  Marin,    Benton,    Zorach,  Ray, 

Wright,  Russell  292 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Ernesta.   Beaux.   Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    ....  (Frontispiece) 

FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

1.  — Death  on  the  White  Horse.  West.  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 

Arts,  Philadelphia   22 

2.  — Saint  Peter  Denying  Christ.   West.   Hampton  Court,  England    .  23 

3.  — Portrait  of  John  Bourse.    Copley.   Worcester  Art  Museum     .     .  23 

4.  — Portrait  of  Washington.    Peale.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .  28 

5- — Portrait  of  Alexander  Hamilton.  Trumbull.  Metropolitan  Museum 

of  Art   28 

6.  — Portrait  of  Washington.   Stuart.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  .  30 

7.  — Portrait  of  General  Dearborn.   Stuart.  The  Art  Institute,  Chicago  30 

8.  — Portrait  of  Miss  Beach.  Stuart.  Public  Library,  Fort  Worth,  Texas  32 

9.  — Portrait  of  Mrs.  Morton.    Stuart.    Worcester  Art  Museum     .    .  33 

10.  — Portrait  of  Henry  Nichols.   Stuart.   Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  36 

11.  — Portrait  of  Fanny  Kemble.   Sully.   Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 

Arts   36 

12.  — In  the  Catskills.    Cole.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art       ...  39 

13.  — Niagara  Falls.   Church.   Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  Washington,  D.  C.  42 

14.  — On  the  Hudson.    Doughty.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art      .    .  42 

15.  — Washington  Crossing  the  Delaware.    Leutze.    Metropolitan  Mu- 

seum of  Art   42 

16.  — The  Bathers.    Hvmt.    Worcester  Art  Museum   43 

17.  — The  Yosemite  Valley.   Hill.    Crocker  Art  Gallery,  Sacramento    .  46 

18.  — Sunset  in  the  Woods.   Inness.   Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  Washington, 

D.  C   48 

19.  — The  Coming  Storm.  Inness.  Carnegie  Public  Library,  Fort  Worth, 

Texas  ■   48 

20.  — The  Approaching  Storm.  Inness.  The  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis  50 

21.  — Peace  and  Plenty.    Inness.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .     .     .  50 

22.  — The  Delaware  Valley.    Inness.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art      .  50 

23.  — Early  Morning.    Inness.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago    ....  Si 

24.  — Home  of  the  Heron.    Inness.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago  ...  54 

25.  — Sunset  in  Georgia.   Inness.   Layton  Art  Gallery,  Milwaukee    .     .  54 

26.  — The  Coming  Storm.    Keith.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago    ...  58 

27.  — Summit  of  the  Sierras.    Keith.    The  Institute  of  Art,  San  Francisco  58 

28.  — The  Mountain  Top.   Keith.   The  Institute  of  Art,  San  Francisco  .  59 

29.  — The  Harp  of  the  Winds.    Martin.    MetropoHtan  Museum  of  Art  .  59 

30.  — Forenoon  in  the  Adirondacks.  Wyant.   Metropolitan  Museum  of 

Art   62 

31.  — Morning  in  Venice.  Bunce.  The  Macbeth  Gallery.  New  York  City  62 


ILI.USTRATIONS 


FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

32. — Fog  Warning.  Homer.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  ....  64 

33-  — Hark,  the  Lark!   Homer.   Lay  ton  Art  Gallery,  Milwaukee  ...  64 

34-  — The  Unruly  Calf.  Homer.    Institute  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  Brooklyn  65 

35-  — Northeaster,    Homer.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    ....  66 

36.  — The  Gale.    Homer.    Worcester  Art  Museum   67 

37.  — The  Wreck.    Homer.    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  ...  68 

38.  — Sunlight  on  the  Beach.  Homer.  The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo  .    .  68 

39.  — The  Coming  Storm.    Homer.    Lotos  Club,  New  York  City     .    .  69 

40.  — The  Fuller  Boy.    Fuller.    The  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis     .     .  76 

41.  — The  Old  Kentucky  Home.    Johnson.     The  Public  Library,  New 

York  City   77 

42.  — The  Sphinx.    Vedder.    Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston   ....  77 

43.  — The  Oil  Wells.    Coleman   78 

44.  — Adoration,  La  Farge.  The  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  Brooklyn  80 

45.  — The  Wolf  Charmer,   La  Farge.   The  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis  81 

46.  — The  Halt  of  the  Wise  Men.   La  Farge.  The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 

Boston   84 

47.  — The  Waste  of  Waters.   Ryder.   The  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sciences, 

Brooklyn   84 

48.  — In  the  Stable.   Ryder.   Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  .    .    .  8s 

49.  — Portrait  of  Whistler.    Boldini.    The  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sciences, 

Brooklyn   90 

50.  — My  Mother.    Whistler.    The  Luxembourg,  Paris   91 

51.  — ^At  the  Piano.    Whistler  T'.    .    .    .  92 

52.  — The  Blacksmith.    Whistler.    The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  .  93 

53.  — Study  in  Rose  and  Brown.    Whistler,    The  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts, 

Muskegon   94 

54.  — Portrait  of  Sarasate.    Whistler,    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  95 

55.  — In  the  Studio.    Whistler.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago  ....  96 

56.  — Lady  with  the  Yellow  Buskin.   Whistler.  Wilstach  Gallery,  Phila- 

delphia   96 

57.  — Connie  Gilchrist.    Whistler.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art     .    .  97 

58.  — Portrait  of  Whistler.    Way   98 

59.  — Breaking  Home  Ties.   Hovenden.   The  Macmillan  Company,  New 

York  City   100 

60.  — The  Prodigal's  Return.    Mosler.    Luxembourg,  Paris    ....  loi 

61.  — The  Cosy  Corner.    Millet.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .     .     .  loi 

62.  — The  Whistling  Boy.    Duveneck.    Cincinnati  Museum  ....  102 

63.  — The  Flower  Girl,    Duveneck.    Cincinnati  Museum   102 

64.  — Portrait  of  a  Young  Woman.    Thayer.    Metropolitan  Museum  of 

Art   103 

65.  — In  the  Sun.    Robinson   106 

66.  — Castles  in  Spain.    Harrison.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art     .    .  107 

67.  — Mrs,  Brush  Reading  to  Her  Children,    Brush   108 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

68.  — The  Communion.    Melchers   109 

69.  — The  Fencing  Master.    Melchers.    The  Museum  of  Art,  Detroit.  110 

70.  — Marriage.    Melchers.    The  Institute  of  Arts,  Minneapolis.     .     .  110 

71.  — Silent  Devotion.  Marr.  Lay  ton  Art  Gallery,  Milwaukee  .     .     .  11 1 

72.  — The  Wandering  Jew.  Marr,    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .    .  112 

73.  — The  Two  Disciples  at  the  Tomb.    Tanner.    The  Art  Institute, 

Chicago   112 

74.  — Portrait  of  William  M.  Chase.  Beckwith.   John  Herron  Institute, 

Indianapolis   114 

75.  — Alice.    Chase.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago   114 

76.  — Dorothy.    Chase.    John  Herron  Institute,  Indianapolis    .    .    .  114 

77.  — Dorothy  and  Her  Sister.    Chase.    Luxembourg,  Paris  .     .    .     .  115 

78.  — Lady  with  White  Shawl.   Chase.  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 

Arts   IIS 

79.  — In  the  Studio.     Chase.    Institute  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  Brooklyn  116 

80.  — Fish.    Chase.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art   117 

81.  — Portrait  of  Chase.    Chase.    The  Detroit  Museum  of  Art  .    .    .  118 

82.  — Portrait  of  St.  Gaudens  and  Chase.  Cox.    Metropolitan  Museum 

of  Art   119 

83.  — The  Brook  by  Moonlight.   Blakelock.  The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo  122 

84.  — Ecstasy.    Blakelock.    Gallery  of  Fine  Arts,  Muskegon    .     .     .  123 

85.  — Before  Sunrise  in  June.    Tryon.    The  Museum  of  Art,  Detroit    .  124 

86.  — November.    Tryon.    John  Herron  Art  Institute,  Indianapohs     .  125 

87.  — ^Autumn  Sunset.    Tryon.    The  Worcester  Art  Museum    .    .    .  126 

88.  — Spring  Morning.  Tryon.  The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo  .  .  .  127 
'  89. — At  Sunset.    Murphy.    The  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis  .     .    .  127 

90.  — Woodland  Boundary.  Murphy.  The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syra- 

cuse   128 

91.  — Summer.    Wiggins.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    .    .    .  128 

92.  — October  Evening.    Dewey.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    .  129 

93.  — Bringing  Home  the  Cows.  Inness,  Jr.  The  Memorial  Art  Gallery, 

Rochester   132 

94.  — Wood  Sawyers.    Walker.    The  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis  .    .  132 

95.  — Summer  Day.    Foster.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    .    .  133 

96.  — Woods  Interior.    Carlsen.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City     .  134 

97.  — Autumn.    Van  Lear.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  ...  135 

98.  — The  Meadows.    Lathrop.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .    .    .  135 

99.  — Slumbering  Fog.    Daingerfield.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .  138 

100.  — Autumn  Uplands.    Crane.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art      .    .  139 

101.  — Clouds.    Davis.    The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse      .    .    •  140 

102.  — Evening.    Davis.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art   141 

103.  — Time  of  the  Red-Winged  Blackbird.    Davis.    Museum  of  Fine 

Arts,  Syracuse   142 

104.  — On  the  West  Winds.    Davis.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  Yorl?  City  142 


IIvLUSTRATlONS 


FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

105.  — North  West  Wind.    Davis.    The  Art  Institute,  Chicago  ...  143 

106.  — Early  Summer.    Davis.    The  Institute  of  Arts,  Minneapolis  .    .  144 

107.  — Long  Pond.    Ranger.    Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse     .    .    .  145 

108.  — Group  of  Sturdy  Oaks.  Ranger.  The  Albright  Art  Gallery,  Buffalo  145 

109.  — Landscape.  Ranger.  The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo  ....  148 
no. — Uses  of  Wealth.    Blashfield.    Banking  House,  Cleveland  .    .    .  152 

111.  — The  Penance  of  Eleanor.   Abbey.   The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pitts- 

burgh   152 

112.  — Scene  from  King  Lear.    Abbey.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .  153 

113.  — Portrait  of  Felix  Adler.    Volk.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art     .  156 

114.  — The  Misses  Boit.  Sargent.  The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  .  158 
lis. — Carmencita.    Sargent.    Luxembourg,  Paris   158 

116.  — Portrait  of  James  Whitcomb  Riley.  Sargent.  John  Herron  Insti- 

tute, Indianapolis   159 

117.  — Ellen  Terry  as  Lady  Macbeth.    Sargent.    Tate  Gallery,  London  160 

118.  — Carnation  Lily,  Lily  Rose.    Sargent.    Albert  Memorial  Museum, 

London   161 

1 19.  — Tyrolese  Interior.    Sargent.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .    .  162 

120.  — Isabella  and  the  Pot  of  Basil.   Alexander.    The  Museum  of  Fine 

Arts,  Boston   164 

121.  — The  Ring.    Alexander.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art      .    .    .  165 

122.  — Portrait  of  Walt  Whitman.  Alexander.   Metropolitan  Museum  of 

Art   16S 

123.  — Portrait  of  Auguste  Rodin.   Alexander.   The  Cincinnati  Museum  168 

124.  — Portrait  of  Robert  Blum.    Alexander.    The  Cincinnati  Museum  .  168 

125.  — Venetian  Lace  Makers.    Blum.    The  Cincinnati  Museum      .    .  169 

126.  — The  New  York  Window.  Hassam.   The  Corcoran  Gallery  of  Art  172 

127.  — Spring  Morning.    Hassam.    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  173 

128.  — The  Church  of  Old  Lyme.   Hassam.   The  Albright  Art  Gallery, 

Buffalo   173 

129.  — The  Caulker.    Hassam.    The  Cincinnati  Museum   174 

130.  — The  Portrait.    Weir.    The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse    .    .  174 

131.  — The  Red  Bridge.    Weir.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .    .    .  175 

132.  — ^Writing  a  Letter.    Dewing.    The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo.    .  .176 

133.  — The  Lady  with  a  Macaw.    Dewing.    The  Albright  Art  Gallery, 

Buffalo   177 

134.  — The  Silver  Waist.    De  Camp   177 

135.  — Niagara  in  Winter.    Twachtman.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York 

City   182 

136.  — 'The  Waterfall.    Twachtman.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .    .  183 

137.  — Sunshine  and  Shadow.    Benson.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York 

City   184 

138.  — Portrait  of  a  Boy.    Benson.    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  185 

139.  — Woman  in  Pink  and  Green.   Tarbell.   The  Cincinnati  Museum   .  185 

140.  — The  Miniature.    Reid.    The  Museum  of  Art,  Detroit  ....  186 


II.I.USTRATIONS 


FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

141.  — Midsummer.    Metcalf.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    .    .  187 

142.  — Sunlight  in  the  Woods.   Symons.   Carnegie  Public  Library,  Fort 

Worth,  Texas   188 

143.  — River  in  Winter.   Symons.   The  Institute  of  Art,  Minneapolis    .  189 

144.  — The  Crest.  Redfield.  John  Herron  Institute,  Indianapolis  .  .  192 
14s. — Laurel  Brook.    Redfield.    Albright  Art  Gallery,  BufTalo   .    .    .  193 

146.  — The  Delaware  River.    Redfield.    Corcoran  Gallery  of  Art      .     .  193 

147.  — Sycamore  Hill.    Redfield.    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh  .  194 

148.  — December.    Ochtman.    Carnegie  Public  Library,  Fort  Worth, 

Texas   194 

149.  — A  January  Day.    Schofield.    The  Cincinnati  Museum      .    .    .  195 

150.  — Old  Mills  of  the  Somme.    Schofield.    John  Herron  Art  Institute, 

Indianapolis   196 

151.  — ^Woodstock  Meadows.    Harrison.    The  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo  .  197 

152.  — Frozen  River.  Rosen.  Delgado  Museum  of  Art,  New  Orleans  .  197 
153- — The  Brook  in  Autumn.    Rosen   198 

154.  — Woodland  Brook.    Carlson.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  .  199 

155.  — Pack  Monadnock.    Ryder   200 

156.  — The  Dancing  Lesson.    Beaux.    Private  Collection   204 

157.  — A  New  England  Woman.  Beaux.   Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 

Arts   205 

158.  — Mother  and  Child.   Hawthorne.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse  205 

159.  — The  Trousseau.    Hawthorne.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .    .  206 

160.  — Mother  and  Child.    Cassatt   207 

161.  — Morning  Bath.    Cassatt.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .    .    .  208 

162.  — Silver  Clouds.    GroU.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City      .    .  214 

163.  — Summer.    Williams.    Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  .    .    .  214 

164.  — Woodland  Pool.   Genth.   The  Memorial  Art  Gallery,  Rochester  .  215 

165.  — Morning  on  the  River.  Lie.  The  Memorial  Art  Gallery,  Rochester  216 

166.  — The  Conquerors.    Lie.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .     .    .     .  217 

167.  — Building  New  York.    KroU   218 

168.  — The  River  Front.    KroU   219 

169.  — A  Dream.    Davies.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art      ....  220 

170.  — Mother  and  Child.   Bohm.   Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    ,  221 

171.  — Summer.    Frieseke   222 

172.  — The  Hammock.    Frieseke   223 

173.  — Morning  Sunlight.  Miller.   Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City    .  224 

174.  — Gold  Fish.    Miller   225 

175.  — New  Orleans  Negro.    MacCameron.    The  Memorial  Art  Gallery, 

Rochester   225 

176.  — Flowers  of  the  Fields.  Mora.  Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  .  226 
I77-— Anne.    Bellows.    The  Carnegie  Institute,  Chicago   228 

178.  — Evening.    Luks   229 

179.  — Anne  and  Dora.    Luks   230 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

180.  — Consolation.    Nourse  7   230 

181.  — Picnic.    Beal   231 

182.  — Autumn  in  the  City.    Beal   232 

183.  — Girl  in  Green.   McLean.   The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse    .  233 

184.  — On  the  Canal,  New  Hope.   Spencer.   The  Detroit  Museum  of  Art  236 

185.  — Repairing  the  Bridge.   Spencer.   Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .  236 

186.  — Mountain  Lovers.    Hopkins   237 

187.  — The  Wood  Cart.    Dessar.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  .    .    ,  238 

188.  — ^Flowers  in  Jersey.   Garber.   Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City  .  238 

189.  — Morning  Light  in  Spring.  Speicher.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  239 

190.  — Poplars.    Roy  Brown   239 

191.  — Backwater,    Snell   242 

192.  — Boats  at  Gloucester.    Lever   243 

193.  — Rock  Bound  Coast.    Yates   244 

194.  — Sea  and  Rocks.    Waugh   245 

195.  — The  Clan  of  the  Munes.   Waugh.    Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  New 

York  City   246 

196.  — Manana  Point.  Dougherty.  Carnegie  Public  Library,  Fort  Worth, 

Texas   247 

197.  — On  the  Rocks  after  a  Storm.    Koopman.    Delgado  Museum  of 

Art,  New  Orleans   247 

198.  — The  Land  of  His  Fathers.  Leigh.   Snedecor  Gallery,  New  York 

City   250 

199.  — A  Vision  of  the  Past.    Couse   251 

200.  — The  Young  Men  and  Horses.    Burroughs   256 

201.  — The  Funeral  of  Adonis.    Burroughs   256 

202.  — Three  Panels.    Parrish.    Curtis  Publishing  Company,  Philadel- 

phia   257 

203.  — Portrait  of  His  Father.    Wiles.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art    .  260 

204.  — Cordelia.    Dearth.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art   261 

205.  — A  Lady  with  a  Parasol.    Turner   264 

206.  — Spanish  Gipsy  Girl.  Henri.  Delgado  Museum  of  Art,  New  Orleans  265 

207.  — Catherine.    Henri   266 

208.  — English  Nurse.    Walter      .    .'   267 

209.  — Dutch  Woman.    Seyflfert   268 

210.  — Study  in  Black  and  Gold  (Lorinda  Munson  Bryant).    Norton     .  269 

211.  — By  the  River.    Pearson   272 

212.  — A  Sea  of  Hills.    Tack   273 

213.  — Madame  du  Barry.    Bittinger   274 

214.  — The  Fandango.    Boronda   275 

215.  — A  Busy  Street.    Peterson   278 

216.  — The  Opera  Lobby.    Bernstein   279 

217.  — Portrait  Drawing  of  Paul  deKock.  Sloan.  Metropolitan  Museum 

of  Art   282 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FIG.  FACING  PAGE 

2i8. — Factories  on  the  Thames.   Congdon   282 

219- — Dryad.    Fry   283 

220.  — The  Eternal  Drift.    Fry   284 

221.  — The  Upper  Box.    Eyre   28s 

222.  — Guided  by  the  Stars.    Rouland   28s 

223.  — An  Old  Sea  Captain.  Davey.  Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  Washington, 

D.  C   290 

224.  — Marin's  Island  (Maine).    Marin   294 

225.  — Figure  Organization.  Benton   295 

226.  — Spring.    Zorach   298 

227.  — Dance  Interpretation.    Ray   299 

228.  — Adolescence.    Macdonald-Wright   302 

229.  — Cosmic  Synchromy.    Russell   303 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  AND 
THEIR  PAINTERS 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  AND 
THEIR  PAINTERS 

CHAPTER  I 

WEST— COPLEY— PEALE— TRUMBULL 

AMERICA,  the  inheritor  of  the  ages! 
That  certainly  sounds  promising,  but,  we 
may  ask,  has  the  inheritance  proved  wholly  a 
blessing?  The  cry  has  been  going  up  for  a 
hundred  years  and  more  that  in  our  art  we 
are  only  imitators  of  the  past.  This  cry  has 
not  been  without  some  truth ;  but  why,  we  ask, 
expect  from  American  painters  in  so  short  a 
time  what  it  has  taken  older  countries  cen- 
turies to  accomplish? 

The  wonderful  scenery  of  the  new  country 
and  the  picturesque  Indian  no  doubt  impressed 
the  artists  among  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  if  there 
were  any,  but  both  the  scenery  and  the  In- 
dian must  have  lost  much  of  their  picture- 
making  quality  in  the  struggle  for  existence 
of  those  early  days.  Then,  too,  had  the  trained 

21 


22         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


artist  painted  genre  pictures  of  the  Indian  in 
his  unique  costume  and  unusual  surroundings 
and  sent  them  back  to  the  old  home,  I  suspect 
the  European  art  world  would  have  tapped  its 
forehead  with  much  the  same  significance  that 
the  inn  keeper  did  at  the  tales  of  the  returned 
hunter  who  first  discovered  Yellowstone  Park. 

Again,  is  it  not  possible  that  our  art  inherit- 
ance was  one  of  the  real  obstacles  to  be  over- 
come before  our  native  American  artist  could 
respond  to  the  wonderful  surroundings  of  nat- 
ural scenery  and  native  inhabitants  ?  The  very 
bigness  of  the  country  and  the  unusualness  of 
all  that  pertained  to  life  ill  fitted  the  traditions 
of  the  eighteenth  century  art  work  of  Europe. 

Not  until  1738,  when  Benjamin  West  opened 
his  eyes  in  the  new  world,  did  American  paint- 
ing have  its  birth.  Immediately  there  comes 
to  mind  a  mental  picture  of  the  little  Benjamin 
sitting  by  the  cradle  painting  a  picture  of  his 
baby  sister  with  a  brush  made  from  pussy's 
tail.  The  stories  of  the  early  achievements 
of  the  boy  are  as  much,  a  part  of  his  identity 
as  that  he  was  born  in  America,  so  it  matters 
little  whether  he  was  an  infant  prodigy  or  not. 

Even  if  he  were  not  a  great  artist,  we  are 
rather  proud  of  the  business  ability  that  made 
him  a  necessary  adviser  to  King  George  III, 
and  resulted  in  his  being  the  real  instigator  in 


Fig.  3 — Portrait  of  John  Bourse.    Copley.  Courtesy 
of  the  Worcester  (Mass.)  Art  Museum. 


ANO  THEIR  PAINTERS  23 

founding  the  Royal  Academy,  London,  Eng- 
land m  1767. 

The  usual  jealousies  were  undermining  the 
art  societies  of  London  when  the  king  took 
matters  in  his  own  hands — under  the  direction 
of  West,  however — and  secretly  planned  his 
own  art  academy.  He  added  the  last  straw 
to  the  expiring  societies  by  answering  person- 
ally the  request  of  the  president  that  West's 
"Regulus"  be  sent  to  one  of  the  exhibitions. 
^'No/'  said  the  king,  "'it  must  go  to  my  exhibi- 
tion— the  Royal  Academy."  The  king  invited 
West  to  be  the  first  president  but  West  felt 
that  the  honour  belonged  to  an  Englishman, 
and  persuaded  Reynolds,  who  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  preliminaries,  to  accept  the  honour. 

West  at  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua  in  1792  be- 
came the  second  president.  The  king  at  this 
time  wished  to  confer  the  honour  of  knight- 
hood upon  him,  a  precedent  established  with 
Reynolds,  but  West,  possibly  hoping  for  a 
^^baronetcy  and  a  pension,''  gracefully  refused 
and  with  a  note  of  pride,  said,  '1  think  I  have 
earned  greater  eminence  with  my  pencil  than 
knighthood  could  confer  on  me."  Although  he 
retained  the  royal  favour  of  King  George  III, 
he  never  again  was  given  the  opportunity  of 
refusing  knighthood  nor  was  he  offered  a  high- 
er honour.   West  is  the  only  president  of  the 


24         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


Royal  Academy,  in  its  life  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years,  who  did  not  become  a  "sir" 
upon  accepting  the  presidency.  Throughout 
the  reign  of  King  George  III  West  continued 
in  favour  with  the  court,  but  upon  the  acces- 
sion of  King  George  IV  the  court  patronage 
ceased. 

West  spent  his  boyhood  days  in  Philadel- 
phia, where  the  Indian  in  his  untrammelled  life 
appealed  to  his  artistic  nature,  and  gave  him 
just  the  material  for  picture-making,  which 
material  he  used  when  he  painted  ''The  Death 
of  General  Wolfe.''  His  audacity  in  stepping 
out  of  the  beaten  path  of  art  tenets  and  cloth- 
ing his  characters  in  the  costumes  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  country,  and  the  time  brought  him 
enthusiastic  applause  from  the  people  in  spite 
of  the  disapproval  at  first  of  so  eminent  an  art- 
ist as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  Sir  Joshua,  after 
careful  examination,  said,  'West  has  con- 
quered; he  has  treated  his  subject  as  it  ought 
to  be  treated;  I  retract  my  objections.  I  fore- 
see that  this  picture  will  not  only  become  one 
of  the  most  popular  but  will  occasion  a  revo- 
lution in  art."  West  went  to  Italy  when  quite 
young;  after  a  short  sojourn  in  that  country 
he  started  for  home,  stopping  in  England  for  a 
business  call.  The  call  extended  over  the  rest 
of  his  life,  and  gave  him  a  final  resting  place 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  25 

in  the  crypt  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London 
(1820). 

Besides  a  series  of  large  canvases  on  Eng- 
lish history  made  by  request  of  the  king,  West 
began  a  series  of  religious  pictures.  One  of 
the  most  noted  of  these  is  ''Death  on  the  Pale 
Plorse"  (Fig.  i),  in  the  Pennsylvania  Acad- 
emy of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia.  It  is  painted 
in  the  grand  style  he  assumed  in  his  large  com- 
positions, possibly  thinking  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  Michael  Angelo.  He  has  taken 
his  theme  from  Rev.  6:8,  "And  I  looked,  and 
behold  a  pale  horse :  and  his  name  that  sat  on 
him  was  Death,  and  Hell  followed  with  him. 
And  power  was  given  unto  them  over  the 
fourth  part  of  the  earth,  to  kill  with  sword, 
and  with  hunger,  and  with  death,  and  with  the 
beasts  of  the  earth."  In  looking  at  the  paint- 
ing we  find  that  West  has  literally  followed 
the  words  of  St.  John.  While  the  few  simple 
words  of  the  evangelist  leave  a  clear  picture 
of  horror  in  our  minds,  this  painted  picture  of 
West's  is  so  full  of  confusing  details  that  the 
significance  of  the  scene  is  lost  in  the  chaos 
of  figures.  What  a  masterpiece  this  would 
have  been  if  Michael  Angelo  had  conceived  it ! 

In  some  of  his  smaller  canvases,  however. 
West  has  given  a  touch  of  reality  akin  to  his 
own  personal  charm  and  Quaker  directness. 


26         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


This  is  specially  true  of  ''St.  Peter  Denying 
Christ"  (Fig.  2),  Hampton  Court,  England. 
The  apostle's  earnest,  deprecating  manner, 
combining  both  devotion  and  cowardUness,  has 
a  human  element  that  speaks  to  the  heart. 
West's  artistic  ambition  was  greater  than  his 
skill  with  brush  and  paint.  The  reddish-brown 
colour  comes  from  painting  on  red  grained 
canvas — a  legacy  from  the  Italian  Eclectics, 
and  unfortunately  emphasises  the  impetuous 
efforts  of  one  ill  at  ease  with  his  tools. 

While  Benjamin  West  was  practically  an 
English  painter,  except  by  accident  of  birth,  his 
friend  and  contemporary,  John  Singleton  Cop- 
ley (173 7- 1 815),  was  a  true  American.  Cop- 
ley probably  had  his  early  training  from  his 
stepfather,  though  his  son,  Lord  Lindhurst, 
states  that  his  father,  Copley,  "was  entirely 
self-taught  and  never  saw  a  decent  picture, 
with  the  exception  of  his  own  until  he  was 
nearly  thirty.'*  Among  the  pictures  Copley 
painted,  probably  before  he  left  America,  was 
the  ''Portrait  of  John  Bours"  (Eig.  3),  now  in 
the  Worcester  (Mass.)  Art  Museum.  This 
young  clergyman  of  Newport  (1737-1815) 
and  Copley  were  nearly  the  same  age  and,  from 
the  intimate  character  of  the  picture,  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  a  warm  friendship  bound 
them  together.    Seldom  did  Copley  give  so 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  27 

sympathetic  an  understanding  of  the  personal 
element  as  in  the  likeness  of  this  gentleman. 
That  it  is  a  likeness,  who  can  doubt?  The 
splendid  physique  and  air  of  good  fellowship 
mark  the  man  as  a  strong,  helpful  friend. 

While  Copley  was  still  living  in  Boston — 
probably  in  1766 — ^he  sent  a  painting,  ''Boy 
with  a  Flying  Squirrel,"  to  his  countryman, 
West,  in  London,  England.  The  painting  ar- 
rived unsigned  and  without  the  accompanying 
letter,  but  West,  recognising  the  American 
habitat  of  both  the  pine  wood  of  the  stretcher 
and  the  flying  squirrel,  suspected  it  was  from 
his  friend  Copley.  He  enthusiastically  pro- 
nounced the  colouring  to  be  worthy  of  Titian. 
Through  West's  influence  the  picture  was  hung 
in  the  exhibition  of  the  Society  of  Incorpor- 
ated artists — though  anonymous  works  were 
usually  prohibited — and  at  once  Copley's  repu- 
tation was  established  in  England. 

It  was  nearly  ten  years  later  before  Copley 
visited  the  great  galleries  of  Europe  and  finally 
settled  in  London.  Here,  under  the  influence 
of  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough,  he  gained  tech- 
nical skill  in  his  art,  but  his  portraits  of  the 
royal  family  and  English  nobility  have  not 
brought  him  the  lasting  fame  of  the  pictures 
he  painted  before  leaving  America.  ''The 
long  series  of  portraits  of  our  colonial  digni- 


28         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


taries,  divines,  judges  and  merchants"  and  tKe 
strong,  self-reliant  women  of  that  day  mark 
him  as  a  veritable  "American  Van  Dyck/' 
Those  portraits  give  us  a  better  understanding 
of  the  type  of  manhood  and  womanhood  that 
laid  the  foundation  of  our  Republic  than  any 
historians  have  given  us  in  words. 

It  is  to  Charles  Wilson  Peak's  (1741-1827) 
credit  that  after  studying  under  West  four 
years  in  London,  he  came  home  to  practise 
his  art.  He  had  the  good  fortune  to  have 
Washington  sit  for  him  fourteen  times.  His 
portraits  were  the  first  ever  painted  of  our  first 
president,  and  what  a  pity  that  they  lack  that 
element  of  sympathetic  good-fellowship  that 
an  artist  with  a  delicate  understanding  reveals 
of  his  sitters.  His  "Portrait  of  Washington" 
(Fig.  4),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New 
York  City,  is  no  doubt  a  good  likeness,  but 
with  no  soul.  It  seems  strange  that  Peale  could 
not  have  given  a  warm,  personal  picture  of 
Washington.  It  is  said  that  he  made  a  minia- 
ture of  General  Washington  while  in  camp  "in 
a  room  so  small  and  poorly  lighted  that  Peale, 
who  stood  by  the  window,  was  forced  to  ask 
the  distinguished  model  to  sit  on  the  bed." 

When  John  Trumbull  (1756-1843)  was  paid 
$32,000  for  four  pictures  of  American  histori- 
cal events,  to  fill  compartments  in  the  Rotunda 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS 


of  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  he  probably  re- 
ceived more  than  they  would  bring  to-day,  if 
their  value  depended  upon  their  artistic  merit. 
As  a  recorder  of  American  history  Trumbull 
deserves  some  consideration,  but  as  an  artist 
little  can  be  said  in  his  favour.  His  active  serv- 
ice in  the  Revolutionary  War  brought  him  in 
contact  with  the  leading  men  of  the  times,  so 
that  he  never  lacked  for  sitters  of  renown. 

To  have  the  honour  of  making  a  'Tortrait 
of  Alexander  Hamilton"  (Fig.  5),  Metropoli- 
tan Museum  of  Art,  was  sufficient  of  itself  to 
claim  recognition  for  the  artist.  Hamilton's 
distinguished  bearing  was  just  the  quality  that 
appealed  to  Trumbull,  who  believed  in  the  dig- 
nity of  art;  then  Hamilton's  habitually  cheer- 
ful, bright  face  overcame,  in  a  measure,  the 
hard,  formal  brush  of  the  artist,  and  his  deli- 
cate skin  and  rosy  cheeks  compelled  Trumbull 
to  use  agreeable  colours. 


CHAPTER  II 


STUART— SULLY 

"^"O  truly  American  household  has  been 
^  complete  for  more  than  a  hundred  years 
without  a  copy  of  Gilbert  Stuart's  ( 1755-1828) 
"Athenaeum  Portrait  of  Washington"  (Fig.  6), 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.  Though  other 
cities  claim  Stuart  originals  of  Washington, 
the  artist  himself  says,  in  a  note  at  the  foot 
of  a  letter  from  the  President,  preserved  by 
his  daughter :  "In  looking  over  my  papers  to 
find  one  that  had  a  signature  of  George  Wash- 
ington, I  found  this,  asking  me  when  he  would 
sit  for  his  portrait,  which  is  now  owned  by 
Samuel  Williams  (the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne) 
of  London.  I  have  thought  it  proper  that  it 
should  be  his,  especially  as  he  owns  the  only 
original  painting  I  ever  made  of  Washington, 
except  one  I  own  myself.  I  painted  a  third, 
but  rubbed  it  out.    Signed,  Gt.  Stuart.'' 

Of  course  Stuart  made  many  replicas  of  the 
Athenaeum  head,  but  Washington  sat  only 
three  times  to  the  great  artist.    The  portrait 

30 


Fig.  7 — Portrait  of  General  Dearborn.  Stuart.  Courtesy 
of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  31 

Stuart  owned  was  sold  by  the  artist's  widow 
to  the  Washington  Association  and,  in  1831, 
was  presented  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  hence 
the  name;  it  is  simply  loaned  to  the  Museum. 

The  Washington  portrait  for  Samuel  Wil- 
liams, referred  to  in  Stuart's  letter,  was  sent 
to  England  and  is  known  as  the  Lansdowne 
Washington.  It  is  a  full-length  figure,  though 
Washington  sat  for  the  head  only. 

The  peculiar  expression  around  Washing- 
ton's mouth  is  probably  due  to  his  false  teeth, 
or  rather  bars.  In  a  letter  to  his  dentist  of 
October  12,  1798,  he  writes:  '1  find  that  it  is 
the  bar  alone,  both  above  and  below,  that  gives 
the  lips  the  pouting  and  swelling  appearance 
— of  consequence,  if  this  can  be  remedied  all 
will  be  well.  .  .  .  George  Washington."  This 
:  letter  was  written  a  year  before  the  president's 
death  and  after  Stuart  painted  his  portraits. 
Stuart  himself  said,  in  reference  to  the  Athen- 
aeum head :  ''When  I  painted  him,  he  had  just 
had  a  set  of  false  teeth  inserted,  which  accounts 
for  the  constrained  expression  so  noticeable 
about  the  mouth  and  lower  part  of  the  face." 
He  probably  meant  the  bars. 

In  writing  of  Gilbert  Stuart  we  are  dealing 
with  a  man  who  was  as  strong  in  artistic  origi- 
nality as  the  great  painters  of  Europe.  As  a 
portrait  painter  he  had  no  superior.  His 


32         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

philosophic  mind  and  keen  insight  into  the  mo- 
tives of  men  revealed  to  him  traits  of  char- 
acter in  his  sitter  that  enabled  him  to  paint  not 
only  a  man's  reputation  but  his  real  self. 

No  portrait  is  a  finer  example  of  Stuart's 
best  work  than  that  of  "General  Dearborn" 
(Fig.  7)  in  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago.  George 
C.  Mason,  describing  the  painting  of  General 
Dearborn,  in  his  biography  of  Gilbert  Stuart, 
says:  ''The  mouth,  painted  as  only  an  artist 
of  the  highest  order  could  paint  it,  v^ith  a 
faint  smile  lurking  around  the  corners,  gives 
the  idea  that  the  figure  is  about  to  speak  in 
reply  to  some  remark  that  has  been  made." 
Stuart  painted  on  mahogany  panels  prepared 
under  his  special  direction.  The  surface  of 
the  panel  was  made  to  look  like  canvas  by 
passing  the  plane  over  the  whole  face,  then 
across  the  surface  at  right  angles.  The  ar- 
rangement of  his  palette  was  simplicity  itself, 
yet  his  wonderful  skill  in  laying  in  colours  has 
left  his  pictures  nearly  as  fresh  to-day  as  a 
century  ago.  Benjamin  West  would  say  to  his 
pupils :  "It  is  no  use  to  steal  Stuart's  colours  ; 
if  you  want  to  paint  as  he  does,  you  must  steal 
his  eyes." 

The  "Portrait  of  Miss  Clementina  Beach" 
(Fig.  8),  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  is  unique  in  be- 
ing that  of  a  lady  who  was  a  pupil  of  Stuart. 


Fig.  8— Portrait  of  Miss  Beach.     Stuart.     r\)iirt('sy  of  the  Public  Library, 
Fort  Worth,  Texas. 


Fig.  9— Portrait  of  Mrs.  Perez  Morton.    Stuart.    Courtesy  of  the  Worcester 
(Mass.)  Art  Museum. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  33 

Miss  Beach  was  one  of  those  splendid  women 
who  helped  mould  the  young  women  of  our 
Republic.  She  was  born  in  Bristol,  Eng- 
land, and  came  to  America  about  1800,  when 
scarcely  twenty-five  years  old.  In  conjunction 
with  Mrs.  Saunders,  she  opened  a  school  for 
young  women  in  Dorchester,  Mass.  She  was 
also  ambitious  to  know  something  of  portrait 
painting,  so  between  the  years  1810  and  181 5 
she  sat  to  Gilbert  Stuart  for  this  portrait,  and 
afterwards  copied  the  picture,  making  it  a 
standard  for  her  own  work. 

That  Stuart  understood  the  mental  attitude 
of  one  seeking  high  ideals  is  readily  seen  in 
the  clear  eyes  looking  at  us  so  searchingly.  He 
has  made  us  feel  that  here  is  a  woman  with  a 
real  message,  and  that  she  has  the  magnetism 
that  holds  listeners,  and  the  honest  purpose 
that  wins  allegiance  to  the  truth. 

That  this  'Tortrait  of  Mrs.  Perez  Morton" 
(Fig.  9),  Worcester  (Mass.)  Art  Museum, 
and  the  Athenaeum  Washington  were  never 
finished  is  not  surprising,  for  one  of  the  criti- 
cisms often  made  of  Stuart  was  his  careless 
painting  of  accessories,  to  which  the  artist 
would  reply,  '*I  copy  the  works  of  God,  and 
leave  the  clothes  to  the  tailor  and  mantua- 
makers." 

Stuart  painted  two  portraits,  possibly  three, 


34         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

of  Mrs.  Morton,  but  she  sat  for  only  the  first 
one.  The  finished  portrait  possibly  is  still  in 
possession  of  the  Clinch  family,  East  Boston — 
Mrs.  Clinch  was  a  granddaughter  of  Mrs. 
Morton.  The  latter  in  appreciation  wrote  the 
following  lines  to  the  artist : 

"Stuart,  thy  portrait  speaks  with  skill  divine : 

Go  on — and  may  reward  thy  cares  attend, 
The  friend  of  genius  must  remain  thy  friend; 

Genius  is  Sorrow's  child,  to  Want  allied, 
Consol'd  by  Glory  and  sustained  by  Pride; 
Unknown — unfelt — unshelter'd — uncaress'd — 
In  walks  of  life  where  worldly  passions  rest." 

Stuart  was  quick  to  respond : 

"Who  would  not  glory  in  the  wreath  of  praise. 
Which  M — n  offers  in  her  polished  lays? 
I  feel  their  cheering  influence  at  my  heart, 
And  more  complacent  I  review  my  art; 
Yet,  ah,  with  Poesy,  that  gift  divine, 
Compar'd,  how  poor,  how  impotent  is  mine ! 

No  more  my  adverse  fortune  I  lament: 
Enough  for  me  that  she  extends  the  meed, 
Whose  approbation  is  applause  indeed." 


Mrs.  Morton  was  called  the  American 
Sappho. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  35 

When  Stuart  painted  the  "Portrait  of  Henry 
Nichols"  (Fig.  10),  Carnegie  Institute,  Pitts- 
burgh, he  put  on  record  the  Hkeness  of  one  of 
the  pioneers  of  the  eastern  shores  of  Mary- 
land— the  Nichols  family  came  to  America  at 
the  time  of  Lord  Baltimore.  Henry  Nichols 
was  a  man  of  refinement,  and  hospitality  was  a 
marked  feature  of  his  Maryland  mansion.  Ma- 
son writes  of  this  portrait:  ''It  is  related  of 
him  (Nichols)  that  he  determined  to  have  his 
portrait  painted  by  Stuart,  and  to  this  end,  at- 
tended by  his  bodyguard,  he  drove  from  Balti- 
more to  Boston  in  his  own  carriage,  giving 
three  weeks  to  the  journey.  Stuart  rewarded 
his  enthusiasm  by  painting  a  remarkably  fine 
head  of  him." 

Gilbert  Stuart's  talent  for  painting  began  to 
show  itself  early  in  his  teens.  Like  most  chil- 
dren with  a  special  talent,  he  was  capable  but 
v^ayward  in  school,  self-willed,  high-spirited, 
at  the  head  and  front  of  all  mischief,  and  a 
general  favourite  with  his  companions.  He 
worked  his  way  to  success  through  many  vicis- 
situdes of  fortune — lack  of  money  and  personal 
inconsistencies  bringing  the  usual  drawbacks. 
The  words  of  his  obituary  by  his  friend  Wash- 
ington Allston  (the  artist)  are  as  true  of 
Stuart  to-day  as  when  written  in  1828.  ''In 
the  world  of  art  Mr.  Stuart  has  left  a  void  that 


36         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

will  not  soon  be  filled.  And  well  may  his  coun- 
try say :  'A  great  man  has  passed  from  among 
us/  But  Gilbert  Stuart  has  bequeathed  her 
what  is  paramount  to  power — since  no  power 
can  command  it — the  rich  inheritance  of  his 
fame." 

Thomas  Sully  (1783-1872)  was  born  in 
England,  but  as  most  of  his  time  was  spent  in 
America,  he  is  classed  among  our  artists.  Not 
always  were  his  portraits,  especially  of  women, 
satisfactory,  but  occasionally  there  were  gen- 
uine sparks  of  inspiration  in  his  brush,  when 
he  would  produce  a  masterpiece  of  portraiture. 
One  of  his  really  good  portraits  is  of  ''Frances 
Anne  Kemble"  (Fig.  11),  better  known  as 
Fanny  Kemble,  Pennsylvania  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia. 

A  -beautiful  and  a  brilliant  woman  was 
Fanny  Kemble,  with  a  heart  warm  and  tender 
for  the  misfortunes  of  others.  When  twenty 
years  old  (1829)  she  began  her  public  career 
at  Covent  Garden,  London,  in  "Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  under  her  father's  management,  to  re- 
claim the  fortune  of  her  family.  She  took  the 
part  of  Juliet;  her  father  was  Romeo  and  her 
mother  the  nurse.  From  the  first  she  was  a 
complete  success  and  in  three  years  reclaimed 
the  family  exchequer.  She  came  to  America 
with  her  father  in  1832  and  was  enthusiastic- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  37 

ally  received ;  from  then  until  her  death,  in 
1893,  she  spent  much  time  in  this  country. 
Her  marriage  to  a  Georgia  planter,  Pierce 
Butler,  in  1834,  was  not  a  success  and  after 
fifteen  years  she  was  divorced  and  resumed 
her  maiden  name.  Her  writings  are  well 
known,  and  her  grandson,  Owen  Wister,  is 
one  of  our  distinguished  authors  to-day. 

Sully  has  certainly  pictured  the  woman  of 
genius  in  the  glorious  eyes,  wide-set  and  shin- 
ing with  love  and  sympathy.  How  modern  in 
composition  it  is;  everything  is  subordinated 
to  the  head,  yet  the  contour  of  neck  and  shoul- 
ders and  the  firm  hand  and  arm  gives  strength 
to  the  well-poised  head.  Sully  was  practically 
self-taught.  From  his  ninth  year,  when  his 
parents  came  from  England,  until  grown  to 
manhood  he  lived  in  South  Carolina,  away 
from  art  centres.  The  influence  of  his  talents 
was  soon  felt,  however,  when  his  likenesses  of 
southern  beauties  and  men  of  affairs  became 
known. 


CHAPTER  III 


HUDSON  RIVER  SCHOOL 

COLE  —  CHURCH  —  DOUGHTY  —  LEUTZE  — 
HUNT  —  BIERSTADT  —  HILL  —  MORAN 

T^HOMAS  COLE  (1801-1848)  was  prac- 
tically  the  beginning  of  the  Hudson 
River  School.  His  early  career  as  an  artist 
was  typical  of  the  struggles  and  handicaps  that 
so  often  beset  art  students  with  more  talent 
than  money.  One  of  eight  children  in  a  small 
house  in  Philadelphia,  where  refinement  and 
a  love  for  music  were  dominant  traits,  he 
worked  on  his  wood-engraving  within  sound 
of  his  sisters'  sweet  voices.  A  young  law  stu- 
dent, who  had  his  home  in  the  Cole  family, 
writes  of  Thomas:  ''He  has  his  little  work- 
bench put  up  in  our  room,  under  the  window 
sill, — we  sat  with  our  backs  to  each  other;  at 
intervals  he  whistled  and  sang,  then  laid  aside 
the  tool — took  up  his  flute,  which  was  his  con- 
stant companion,  and  played  some  air.'' 

A  longing  for  the  country  was  stirring  in  the 
38 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  39 

heart  of  the  young  artist  until,  fired  by  tales 
of  a  travelling  artist,  he  slung  his  green  bag 
over  his  shoulder  one  October  day  and  was 
off  for  the  land  of  nowhere.  Indian  summer 
was  at  hand.  And  as  he  trudged  up  the  Hud- 
son River  valley  the  gaily  decked  maples  and 
brilliant-hued  sumachs,  gladdening  the  deep 
green  still  lingering  in  the  grass  and  under- 
growth, beckoned  him  on.  When  he  reached 
the  village  of  Catskill,  bordering  the  foothills 
of  the  mountains,  his  real  joy  began.  His  own 
brush  tells  the  story  of  what  he  saw  "In  the 
Catskills"  (Fig.  12),  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art.  He  opened  the  way  and  many  other 
young  artists  followed  in  his  footsteps. 

It  was  the  sale  of  his  early  pictures  of  the 
Catskills  and  the  good  will  of  Trumbull  and 
other  artists  that  made  possible  a  trip  to  Eng- 
land and  access  to  the  studios  of  Lawrence 
and  Turner.  The  latter  said  of  him:  ''There 
is  a  young  man  from  America,  named  Cole, 
who  ought  to  do  fine  things.  He  is  as  much  of 
a  poet  as  a  painter." 

Thomas  Cole's  most  famous  work,  at  least 
his  best-known  work,  is  "The  Voyage  of  Life," 
in  four  scenes.  Steel  engravings,  made  of 
the  series  early  in  the  last  century,  that  have 
found  their  way  into  many  homes  throughout 
America,  are  growing  more  valuable  each  year. 


40         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Frederick  E.  Church  (1826-1900)  became 
a  student  of  Thomas  Cole  in  his  studio  in  the 
upper  woods  above  the  river.  It  was  from 
this  spot  that  Church  explored  the  fastnesses 
of  the  mountains  of  the  Catskill  and  the  hidden 
coves  and  the  ever-varying  shores  of  the  Hud- 
son. Here  he  caught  that  spirit,  lurking  in 
nature  unmolested,  which  drew  him  irresist- 
ibly to  her  more  astounding  feats,  first  in  South 
America  and  Jamaica  and  then  to  Labrador  to 
complete  his  famous  "Icebergs."  Probably  his 
''Niagara  Falls"  (Fig.  13),  Corcoran  Art  Gal- 
lery, Washington,  brought  him  the  most  per- 
manent fame.  He  painted  this  picture  before 
he  had  been  to  the  old  world  and  most  perti- 
nent was  the  statement  made  at  its  appearance 
that,  "Indeed  this  work  formed  an  era  in  the 
history  of  native  landscape  art,  from  the  rev- 
elation it  proved  to  Europeans."  He  certainly 
bewilders  the  mind  with  that  stupendous  vol- 
ume of  water  pouring  into  the  abyss  below. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  picture  attracted 
favourable  attention  in  Paris  at  the  Interna- 
tional Exhibition  in  1867,  where  it  received  a 
medal  of  the  second  class.  At  that  time  com- 
paratively few  people  in  Europe  had  any  defi- 
nite idea  of  our  country  or  knew  anything 
about  its  natural  wonders.  To  state  that  such 
a  vast  quantity  of  water  was  pouring  itself 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  41 

year  after  year  over  a  fall  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty-four  feet  was  almost  unthinkable  by  the 
old  world  travellers,  familiar  with  the  falls  of 
Switzerland.  What  did  it  mean — that  wide 
stretch  of  water  reaching  to  the  very  horizon? 
Where  were  the  mountains  to  stay  its  course? 
And  where  did  the  depths  below  lead  to  that 
were  swallowing  up  the  mighty  waters  ?  How 
calmly  Church  has  marshalled  his  forces,  until 
at  the  inevitable  moment  the  great  phenome- 
non is  consummated! 

Thomas  Doughty  (1793-1856)  was  another 
leader  in  American  landscape  painting.  A  na- 
tive of  Philadelphia,  he  was  early  apprenticed 
to  a  leather  manufacturer  and  even  became  a 
manufacturer  himself.  But  when  twenty-eight 
years  old  he  decided  to  become  a  painter.  His 
picture  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art 
of  a  view  "On  the  Hudson"  (Fig.  14)  is  a  fine 
example  of  the  '^silvery  tone"  he  gave  to  his 
canvases  to  convince  the  American  public  of 
the  beauty  of  our  landscape.  Doughty  worked 
in  London  and  in  Paris  but  he  remained  true 
to  his  native  inheritance  and  painted  his  pic- 
tures of  home  scenes  with  so  much  sincerity 
and  truth  that  they  brought  him  great  popu- 
larity and  are  still  highly  prized. 

When  Emanuel  Leutze  (181 6- 1868),  who 
holds  a  unique  place  in  American  art,  painted 


42         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

"Washington  Crossing  the  Delaware"  (Pig. 
15),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  he  made  a 
picture  that  every  school  child  associates  with 
that  important  crisis  in  our  early  history.  Of 
course  the  boat  is  too  frail  to  cope  with  the 
tremendous  rush  of  the  ice  and  snow  in  the 
Delaware  River  under  the  spring  thaw,  but 
we  must  remember  that  Leutze  made  his 
studies  of  the  breaking  up  of  river-ice  in  his 
garden  overlooking  the  Rhine  at  Diisseldorf. 
The  flag,  too,  is  an  anachronism  as  it  was  not 
adopted  until  six  months  later,  June  14,  1777. 
Nevertheless,  the  spirit  of  patriotic  enthusi- 
asm overbalances  all  defects  in  the  picture  as 
a  work  of  art.  Though  a  native  German, 
Leutze  was  reared  in  America  and  this  early 
training  gave  him  an  understanding  of  our 
national  struggles  that  resulted  in  his  preserv- 
ing to  us  on  canvas  the  most  noted  events  in 
the  American  Revolution. 

Quite  early  in  his  art  career  Leutze  recrossed 
the  Atlantic  to  study  in  the  Diisseldorf  Acad- 
emy. Later  he  returned  to  America  full  of 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  new  movement — the 
overcoming  of  the  artificial  in  producing  some- 
thing of  the  life  of  the  present.  Leutze  was 
certainly  a  man  of  colossal  mind  with  ideals  of 
grand  proportions,  though  his  art  was  rather 
crude  in  colour  and  technique. 


■Niagara  Falls.    Church.    Courtesy  of  the  Corcoran  Art  Gallery, 
Washington. 


Fig.  15 — Washington  ( 'lossing  the  Delaware, 
Leutze.  Courtesy  of  the  Metiopolitan  Museum 
of  Art. 


Fig.  16— The  Bathers.   Hunt.    Courtesy  of  the  W  orcester  (Mass.)  Art  Museum. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  43 

No  early  American  artist  studied  art  under 
more  favourable  circumstances  (too  favour- 
able) than  William  Morris  Hunt  (1824-1879). 
Unfortunately  inherited  political,  social,  finan- 
cial, and  intellectual  gifts  did  not  make  him  a 
master  painter,  though  they  did  give  him  high 
ideals,  and  those  ideals  were  his  salvation. 

At  sixteen  Hunt  v^as  sent  to  Harvard,  but 
it  was  the  college  life,  not  the  studies,  that  at- 
tracted him.  This  soon  brought  disgrace,  in 
suspension  and  ill  health  from  over-indulgence, 
until  consumption  was  imminent.  His  alarmed 
mother  hurried  with  him  to  Europe  and  finally 
the  family  settled  in  Rome,  where  he  soon  be- 
gan to  improve  in  health  and  his  artistic  nature 
to  expand.  His  first  thought  was  to  be  a  sculp- 
tor, and  to  this  end  he  entered  a  sculptor's  stu- 
dio in  Rome  and  later  spent  a  short  time  under 
Barye  in  Paris.  The  idea  of  returning  to  Har- 
vard was  abandoned  in  favour  of  an  art  career 
— a  ^career  subject  to  many  changes  as  time 
went  on. 

At  twenty  young  William  decided  that  his 
talent  was  painting  and  went  to  Diisseldorf, 
where  he  and  Leutze  were  fellow  students. 
Soon  Hunt  rebelled  under  the  restraint  of  the 
mechanical  methods  that  were  used  alike  in 
training  artists,  mechanics  and  scientists. 
Then,  too,  the  hard  work  savoured  too  much  of 


44         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

college,  so  he  returned  to  Paris  and  again  de- 
cided to  take  up  his  chisel,  this  time  with  Pra- 
dier,  the  sculptor.  Before  carrying  out  this 
plan  he  made  a  hurried  trip  to  America  and 
while  at  home  saw  a  painting  by  Couture 
(French)  which  so  influenced  him  that  he  lost 
no  time  in  returning  to  Paris  to  study  with 
the  French  painter.  Couture  was  an  eclectic, 
in  a  measure,  at  least  he  had  broken  away  from 
the  hard,  cold,  cut-and-dried  rules  of  the  class- 
icists, particularly  in  his  warmth  of  colour. 
He  also  showed  considerable  feeling  for  na- 
ture. For  five  years  Hunt  studied  with  Cou- 
ture, as  his  favourite  pupil.  The  progress  he 
made  under  the  influence  of  praise  satisfied 
him  for  a  time,  but  at  last  his  eyes  were  opened 
through  the  study  of  the  old  masters.  Couture 
ceased  to  be  all  in  all  and,  fortunately,  Millet 
now  came  into  the  life  of  the  young  American. 

Hunt  saw  at  once  the  bigness  of  the  "Ra- 
phael of  Pigs.''  He  went  to  Barbizon,  regard- 
less of  the  ridicule  of  his  Paris  associates,  and 
sat  at  the  feet  of  Millet.  Hunt  wrote  of  the 
French  master:  ''1  found  him  working  in  a 
cellar,  three  feet  underground,  his  pictures  be- 
coming mildewed,  as  there  was  no  floor.  He 
was  desperately  poor,  but  painting  tremendous 
things.''  Hunt's  association  with  Millet  was 
that  of  master  and  pupil,  though  Millet  never 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  45 

had  pupils  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word. 
They  walked  together,  these  two,  Hunt  absorb- 
ing from  the  master  as  he  talked  by  the  way. 
What  an  inspiration  to  be  with  a  man  whose 
soul  was  aHve  to  the  great  heart  of  humanity ! 
He  would  say:  ''See  those  things  that  are 
moving  down  there  in  a  shadow.  They  are 
creeping  or  walking,  but  they  exist;  they  are 
the  genii  of  the  plain.  They  are  nothing  but 
poor  folk,  however.  It  is  a  woman  all  bent, 
without  doubt,  who  is  bringing  back  her  load 
of  grass;  it  is  another,  who  is  dragging  herself 
along,  exhausted,  under  a  bundle  of  fagots. 
From  a  distance  they  are  superb.  They  square 
their  shoulders  under  the  burden ;  the  twilight 
devours  their  forms ;  it  is  beautiful,  it  is  grand 
as  a  mystery." 

Hunt  bought  Millet's  pictures  as  far  as  he 
could,  but,  what  is  of  greater  value,  he  came 
home  to  America  and  taught  his  pupils  the 
wonderful  lessons  learned  from  the  Barbizon 
master.  In  his  ''Bathers"  (Fig.  16),  Worces- 
ter (Mass.)  Art  Museum,  we  feel  the  honest 
simplicity  of  one  who  loved  nature  and  who 
longed  to  represent  her  in  very  truth.  The 
wholesome  glow  on  the  warm  pink  flesh,  com- 
ing from  within  the  healthy  bodies,  and  the 
alert  tension  of  the  elastic  muscles  mark  his 
sympathetic  understanding  of  boy-life.  Hunt's 


46         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

sensitive  artistic  nature  was  easily  played  upon 
by  Millet's  simple  scenes,  and  at  times  he  al- 
most comes  up  to  the  master's  standards  in  his 
own  work — as  in  the  '^Bathers" — and  always 
in  his  teaching.  He  seemed  to  realise,  how- 
ever, his  own  limitations,  even  in  his  many 
years  of  successful  teaching  in  Boston,  for 
he  would  say,  sadly: 

"In  another  country  I  might  have  been  a 
painter." 

There  were  three  artists  who  discovered  our 
western  mountains  about  the  same  time  and 
each,  in  his  own  way,  thought  to  make  a  great 
national  art  by  stretching  large  canvases  and 
painting  expansive  scenes;  but  the  very  big- 
ness of  the  western  out-of-doors  was  their  un- 
doing. Albert  Bierstadt  (1830),  German  by 
birth,  made  the  Rocky  Mountains  his  studio 
and  there  strove  to  interpret  the  height  and 
depth  of  that  stupendous  upheaval  of  past  ages. 
His  ambition  exceeded  his  talent  and  Diissel- 
dorf  training,  and  what  was  a  marvel  in  nature 
became  tame  and  lifeless  under  his  brush. 

Thomas  Hill  (1829),  English  by  birth,  suc- 
ceeded a  little  better  in  representing  the  won- 
ders of  California.  His  "Yosemite  Valley*' 
(Fig.  17),  Crocker  Gallery,  Sacramento,  car- 
ries us  in  imagination  through  the  deep  de- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  47 


pression  into  the  mystery  of  the  mountains 
beyond. 

The  picture  is  a  marvel  in  perspective;  in 
the  near  distance  is  El  Capitan  towering  a 
sheer  four  thousand  feet  above  the  Merced 
River,  the  tiny  stream  that  has  come  rolling 
and  tumbling  through  the  narrow  valley  from 
the  falls  at  the  other  end  of  the  valley,  seven 
miles  away.  The  surrounding  rocks  are  a 
strange  rampart  of  sentinels,  irregular  in  size 
and  shape,  but  forming  nearly  a  complete  wall 
enclosing  the  deep  narrow  depression.  The 
Yosemite  Valley,  or  Grizzly  Bear  as  the  In- 
dians named  it,  is  one  of  those  freaks  of 
mother  earth  where  suddenly,  eons  ago,  she 
lowered  a  small  part  of  herself  down  into  the 
depths  below  and  then  became  stationary, 
forming  a  wee  snug  valley  about  seven  miles 
long  and  a  half  to  two  miles  wide,  protected 
by  a  sheer  wall.  The  falls  that  have  been  pour- 
ing over  nooks  and  angles  of  the  rocks  for 
ages  have  made  no  appreciable  impression  in 
wearing  away  the  hard  foundation — at  least 
not  since  the  valley  was  discovered  in  185 1. 

Thomas  Moran  (1837),  English  by  birth, 
also  painted  the  Yosemite  Valley,  but  probably 
he  is  best  known  by  his  Yellowstone  Park  pic- 
tures. 


CHAPTER  IV 


INNESS 

/^EORGE  INNESS  (1825-1894),  born  in 
Newburgh,  N.  Y.,  was  America's  first 
great  exponent  of  landscapes.  A  forerunner, 
an  innovator  and  a  modern,  he  stands  as  a 
revealer.  The  Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C,  is  exceedingly  fortunate  in 
owning  his  "Sunset  in  the  Woods''  (Fig.  18) 
because  of  the  artist's  own  words  in  regard 
to  it.  On  July  23,  1891,  Mr.  Inness  wrote  of 
the  "Sunset  in  the  Woods":  "The  material 
of  my  picture  was  taken  from  a  sketch  made 
near  Hastings,  Westchester  County,  New 
York,  twenty  years  ago.  This  picture  was 
commenced  seven  years  ago,  but  until  last  win- 
ter I  had  not  obtained  any  idea  commensurate 
with  the  impression  received  on  the  spot.  The 
idea  is  to  represent  an  effect  of  light  in  the 
woods  toward  sundown,  but  to  allow  the  imag- 
ination to  predominate."  We  feel  in  this  bit 
of  personal  revelation  that  we  have  drawn 
near  to  the  original  power  of  this  artist's 

48 


Fig.  18 — Simst't  in  the  Woods.    Inness.    Courtesy  of  the  Corcoran  Art  GiiUery, 

Washington. 


YiG.  19 — Coming  Storm.    Inness.    Courtesy  of  the  Carnegie  Publie 
Library,  Fort  Worth,  Texas. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  49 

genius.  If,  in  the  hurry  to  sell  to-day,  there 
could  be  a  little  more  of  the  Inness  spirit  of 
waiting  until  genius  really  burns,  we  might 
have  fewer  failures  on  the  market.  Why  the 
public  buys  as  it  does  is  an  unexplained  mys- 
tery. However,  if  those  with  opportunities 
would  live  up  to  their  responsibilities,  the 
public  would  learn  to  buy  good  art,  for  only 
good  art  would  be  offered  them. 

Was  it  not  worth  the  waiting  to  get  that 
glow  on  the  venerable  old  tree  trunk  and  in 
the  opening  beyond  the  big  boulder?  How 
we  can  feel  the  gloom  creeping  in  and  the  dark- 
ness shutting  down !  A  stillness  is  in  the  air ; 
the  hushed  twitter  of  the  birds  and  the  nodding 
flowers  warn  us  that  night  is  near.  The  cry 
of  the  owl  and  the  night  insects  grows  bolder. 
Come!  we  must  hurry,  for  that  brilliant  glow 
— like  the  hectic  flush — goes  suddenly 

"and  leaves  the  world  to  darkness." 

The  ''Coming  Storm"  (Fig.  19),  Carnegie 
Public  Library,  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  is  one  of 
several  storm  pictures  that  Inness  painted.  He 
was  especially  felicitous  in  representing  the 
states  of  the  weather,  if  such  a  prosaic  term 
may  be  used  for  his  poetic  portrayal  of  na- 
ture's moods.   He  makes  us  feel  the  summer's 


50         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


heat — hot,  drowsy,  quiet,  shimmery  under  the 
noonday  sun,  also  the  coming  storm  when  the 
air  is  heavy  with  gathering  moisture.  The 
clouds  heap  themselves  together  in  wild  masses, 
literally  driving  out  the  sunshine  as  they  hurl 
their  thunderbolts  across  the  valley.  A  glorious 
sight,  that  moving  mass  now  shrouding  the 
hilltop !  A  hush  is  in  the  valley ;  not  even  the 
treetops  feel  the  fury  of  the  coming  storm. 
The  sunlight  twinkles  and  glows  on  the  gath- 
ering clouds,  as  though  defying  the  onrush. 
A  thrill  of  pleasure  is  ours  in  a  scene  like  this, 
for  often  we  have  watched  just  such  a  storm 
gather.  Inness  never  fails  to  bring  to  us  a 
sense  of  nearness — as  something  that  warms 
our  heart  and  makes  us  happier.  Usually  it 
is  summer  that  appeals  to  him,  the  time  when 
the  earth  rejoices  and  nature  is  giving  her 
fullest  bounty. 

Now  we  turn  to  the  "Approaching  Storm" 
(Fig.  20),  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis,  and 
find  that  Inness  never  was  any  more  monoto- 
nous  in  painting  a  storm  than  a  storm  itself  is 
monotonous.  He  was  quick  to  catch  a  unique 
demonstration  of  the  elements  and  its  effect  on 
surrounding  nature.  The  storm  in  its  onrush 
has  roused  to  an  unusual  pitch  the  young  cow 
in  the  foreground,  as  she  hurries  to  shelter. 
The  rapidly  moving  clouds  seem  to  change  po- 


-Approaching  Storm.    Inness.    Courtesy  of  the  City  Art  Museum, 
St.  Louis. 


Fig.  22 — Delaware  Galley.     Inness.    Courtesy  of 
the  MetropoHtan  Museum  of  Art. 


Fig.  23 — Early  Morning.    Inness.    Courtesy  of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  51 

sition  before  our  very  eyes,  so  vividly  does  our 
imagination  picture  the  storm  bursting  upon 
the  land.  Somehow  George  Inness  gets  into 
our  blood  whether  he  is  portraying  the  mi- 
nutest details,  as  in  his  earlier  works,  'Teace 
and  Plenty"  (Fig.  21)  and  the  "Delaware 
Valley"  (Fig.  22),  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art,  or  whether  he  is  getting  the  effect  through 
simpler  methods.  In  "Peace  and  Plenty,"  his 
unconventional  composition,  with  its  broad  ex- 
panse of  fields  and  winding  stream  leading  to 
the  mountains  in  the  distance  and  his  pleasing 
colour  full  of  sunshine,  fill  us  with  the  joy 
of  the  country;  and  in  the  "Approaching 
Storm"  the  rumble  and  crack  of  the  thunder 
and  lightning  make  our  blood  tingle  just  as 
they  used  to  when  we  were  children. 

It  is  an  interesting  bit  of  history  that  Inness 
painted  "Peace  and  Plenty"  just  as  peace  was 
declared  from  the  Civil  War  and  the  country 
had  had  an  unprecedent  year  of  plenty.  When 
Mr.  Snedecor,  the  founder  of  the  gallery,  saw 
it  he  offered  to  frame  and  exhibit  it  for  half 
the  sale  proceeds — but  no  buyer  was  found 
for  the  picture.  And  only  after  several 
changes  in  dealers  and  a  number  of  years  had 
passed  was  this  picture,  now  occupying  an 
honoured  place  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art,  sold  and  at  an  inverse  ratio  price  to 


52         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

the  number  of  years  since  it  came  from  Mr. 
Inness'  brush. 

One  of  the  finest,  if  not  the  finest,  collec- 
tion of  paintings  by  George  Inness  is  in  the 
Art  Institute  of  Chicago.  Only  when  we  can 
see  a  number  of  Inness'  landscapes  consecu- 
tively do  we  fully  appreciate  his  words  about 
the  purpose  of  his  pictures.  *'Some  persons 
suppose  that  a  landscape  has  no  power  of  con- 
veying human  sentiment.  The  civilised  land- 
scape peculiarly  can;  and  therefore  I  love  it 
more  and  think  it  more  worthy  of  reproduction 
than  that  which  is  savage  and  untamed.  It  is 
more  significant.'' 

As  we  linger  before  his  "Early  Morning" 
(Fig.  23)  a  feeling  of  reverence  steals  over 
us,  for  surely  it  is  a  morning  prayer  of  thanks- 
giving. Tenderly  and  lovingly  the  rising  mist 
kisses  the  green  things  as  it  passes,  and  the 
trees  and  the  grass  sparkle  with  joy  at  the 
caress.  It  is  not  a  sentimental  scene,  this  early 
morning,  but  a  familiar  one  that  finds  an  echo 
in  our  hearts.  The  power  of  touching  the 
mystery  of  familiar  things  was  one  of  Inness' 
strong  points.  There  lingers  in  and  around  his 
landscapes  that  human  warmth  which  makes 
the  world  akin.  He  was  always  a  student,  but 
he  never  had  pupils.  He  used  to  say  when 
asked  how  many  pupils  he  had,  "1  have  had 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  53 

one  for  a  very  long  time,  and  he  is  more  than 
enough  for  me.  The  more  I  teach  him  the 
less  he  knows  and  the  older  he  grows  the 
farther  he  is  from  what  he  ought  to  be.''  In- 
ness  worked  standing,  very  rapidly  at  first, 
then  more  and  more  slowly  as  he  neared  the 
completion  of  his  picture,  to  secure  the  best 
results.  It  was  his  custom  to  stand  at  his 
easel  from  twelve  to  fifteen  hours. 

When  George  Inness  began  to  make  him- 
self felt  in  America  he  caused  almost  as  much 
controversy  among  artists  as  Turner  did  in 
England  and  Puvis  de  Chavannes  in  France. 
Like  all  innovators,  he  was  looked  upon 
with  suspicion  until  he  proved  himself  in 
the  right.  That  Inness  did  prove  himself  in 
the  right  is  seen  in  landscape  painting  to-day. 
He  threw  off  the  yoke  of  representing  merely 
externalities,  and,  with  his  poetic  instinct,  gave 
subtle  meaning  to  his  interpretations  of  na- 
ture that  proved  him  a  genius.  He  was  many 
times  unequal  in  his  painting,  but  never  prosaic 
or  commonplace,  and  the  poetry  of  his  scenes 
is  always  fascinating. 

Inness'  own  words  index  his  art :  ^'I  would 
not  give  a  fig  for  art  ideas  except  as  they  rep- 
resent what  I  perceive  behind  them.  .  .  .  Riv- 
ers, streams,  the  rippling  brook,  the  hillside, 
the  sky,  clouds — all  things  we  see — will  con- 


54         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

vey  the  sentiment  of  the  highest  art  if  we  are 
in  the  love  of  God  and  the  desire  of  truth.'' 
When  he  selected  the  ''Home  of  the  Heron" 
(Fig.  24),  The  Art  Institute,  Chicago,  as  a 
bit  of  nature  to  be  interpreted,  he  told  plainer 
than  words  could  tell  his  love  for  the  out-of- 
the-way  places  where  the  mists  and  vapours 
hang  low  and  the  ever-varying  atmosphere, 
illuminating  and  enveloping  the  whole,  is  like 
a  veil  revealing  and  concealing  the  charms  of 
a  beautiful  woman.  So  intimate  and  familiar 
is  he  with  this  particular  spot  that  even  the 
heron,  timid  as  she  is,  does  not  fly  far  from 
her  home. 

Inness  was  sixty-five  and  at  the  zenith  of 
his  art  career  when  he  painted  ''Sunset  in 
Georgia"  (Fig.  25),  Layton  Art  Gallery,  Mil- 
waukee, Wis.  With  him  began  the  war  be- 
tween the  old  and  the  new  in  American  land- 
scape painting,  and  in  him  the  modern  Ameri- 
can landscapists  found  their  strongest  advo- 
cate. He  saw  in  the  Barbizon  artists,  as 
against  the  Hudson  River  school,  a  freedom 
from  the  restraint  of  painting  petty  details 
that  touched  his  American  sense  of  the  big- 
ness of  the  great  out-of-doors,  and  he  came 
home  to  find  the  subjects  for  his  own  paint- 
ings at  his  very  door.  These  two  traits,  ex- 
panse of  vision  and  intimate  scenes,  are  the 


-Home  of  the  Horon.    Iniicss.    Coiirtes^  of  the  Art  Institute, 
Chicago. 


>   'iV 


Sunset  in  Gcorjria.    Iiiiicss.    Courtesy  of  the  La\  t<jn  Art  Chil- 
lory.  Milwaukee. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  55 

touchstones  of  his  art.  Even  in  the  "Sunset 
in  Georgia"  we  feel  that  he  has  chosen  a  fa- 
vourite spot  on  the  estate  of  his  friend.  With 
his  poetic  nature  all  aglow,  he  has  given  a  poem 
on  canvas  that  shows  the  glory  of  the  fragrant 
wood  and  the  shimmering  water  and  the  phan- 
tom steamer,  for  it  seems  but  a  phantom.  The 
old  negro  servant,  true  to  his  native  instinct, 
has  stolen  down  to  watch,  feeling  in  his  soul 
the  charm  and  mystery  of  the  coming  of  the 
outside  world. 

Inness  was  indeed  a  man  of  deep  thought 
and  of  distinct  individuality.  Even  at  the  end 
of  his  career,  after  many  changes  in  style,  he 
had  lost  none  of  his  artistic  enthusiasm  or 
originality. 


CHAPTER  V 


KEITH— MARTIN— WYANT—BUNCE 


VERY  close  friendship  existed  between 


the  Scotch-American  artist,  William 
Keith  ( 1839-191 1 ) ,  and  George  Inness.  At  one 
time  Inness  made  a  long  stay  in  California  and 
while  there  shared  Keith's  studio.  That  these 
two  men  influenced  each  other  more  or  less  is 
probably  true.  They  were  too  original,  how- 
ever, and  too  genuinely  in  earnest  to  express 
themselves  in  their  pictures  otherwise  than  in- 
dividually and  with  a  poetic  spirit  characteris- 
tic of  true  nature  artists. 

Mr.  Keith  spent  his  early  boyhood  in  his  na- 
tive highlands,  Aberdeenshire,  Scotland,  on  the 
old  estate  where  the  Keith  family  still  owns  a 
feudal  castle.  He  came  to  America  with  his 
parents  when  about  twelve  years  old  and  at 
first  worked  in  a  lawyer's  office,  but  spent  his 
spare  time  studying  wood-engraving.  Very 
shortly  the  engraver's  needle  superseded  the 
lawyer's  pen  and  when  less  than  twenty  he 
held  a  position  with  Harper  and  Brothers,  mak- 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  57 

ing  plates  for  both  their  weekly  and  monthly 
periodicals.  But  the  spirit  of  expansion  was 
in  his  blood  and  in  1859  he  went  to  California 
to  live.  Here  his  pencil  drawings  were  inade- 
quate to  represent  the  marvellous  effects  of 
colour  and  light  and  atmosphere,  and  he  soon 
began  to  replace  them  with  water-colour 
sketches.  These  found  ready  purchasers,  and 
by  the  time  he  was  thirty  he  had  earned  enough 
to  make  his  first  trip  to  Europe.  He  spent 
a  year  studying  in  Diisseldorf,  laying  the 
foundation  for  his  future  career.  Again  and 
again  Keith  visited  Europe  and  sought  out  the 
great  collections  of  world-paintings,  ever  re- 
turning, however,  to  his  beloved  Sierras. 

That  Keith  understood  the  mountains  and 
valleys  of  the  Golden  State  his  numerous  paint- 
ings bear  record.  We  feel  in  his  "Coming 
Storm''  (Fig.  26),  Art  Institute,  Chicago,  a 
mysterious  brooding  of  thoughts  too  deep  for 
words.  The  soft  green  that  forms  the  setting 
reminds  us  of  Herculaneum  bronzes  in  rich- 
ness of  colour,  and  the  banked  clouds,  tinged 
with  the  sun's  golden  rays,  like  a  great  uncut 
topaz,  vary  with  every  wind  puff.  The  quiet 
peace  of  the  tiny  cottages  snuggled  close  to  the 
protecting  oaks  is  undisturbed — the  storm  is 
only  transient.  Keith  once  said,  ''The  senti- 
ment is  the  only  thing  of  real  value  in  my  pic- 


58         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

tures,  and  only  a  few  people  understand  that/' 
It  was  not  surprising  that  he  would  ask  of 
his  "subjective  pictures,"  as  he  called  them: 
"You  don't  like  that  picture?  Well,  I  don't 
care;  it's  good,  anyway — it's  a  'cracker jack.' 
You  say  it  is  irritating,  and  that  proves  it  is 
good.  If  it  didn't  arouse  any  feeling  in  you 
at  all,  it  would  be  worthless.  And,  I  tell  you, 
if  you  had  that  picture  around  all  the  time, 
and  saw  it  every  day,  you  would  grow  to  like 
it — you  couldn't  help  it."  We  understand  his 
pictures  better  after  seeing  a  number  of  them 
together.  Being  a  man  of  moods,  his  pictures 
vary  greatly  in  their  appeal  to  us.  We  may 
not  be  able  to  appreciate  the  full  significance 
of  the  "Summit  of  the  Sierras"  (Fig.  27),  In- 
stitute of  Art,  San  Francisco,  yet  we  are  lifted 
into  a  realm  of  everlasting  snow  in  spite  of 
ourselves.  Were  it  not  for  the  warm,  com- 
forting greens  and  venerable  storm-broken 
trees,  companionable  in  their  very  ruggedness, 
the  vision  of  the  mountain  tops  would  be  al- 
most too  much  for  our  poor  earthbound  minds. 
It  is  little  wonder  that  he  whose  pictures  were 
largely  subjective  should  have  felt  the  lure  of 
California.  He  was  steeped  in  the  beauties  of 
that  wonderful  country,  and  there  found 
scenes  that  fitted  his  every  mood.  With  a 
mind  and  heart  full  of  mountains  and  valleys, 


Fig.  26 — Coining  Storm.   Keith.   Courtesy  of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 


Fig.  27 — Summit  of  the  Sierras.    Keith.    Courtesy  of  the  Institute  of  Art, 
San  Francisco. 


Fig.  28- 


> — The  Mountain  Top.    Keith.    Courtesy  of  the  Institute  of  Art, 
San  Francisco. 


Fig.  29— Harp  of  the  Winds.   Martin.   Courtesy  of  the  MetropoUtan 
Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  59 

trees  ever  green  and  a  sky  whose  glories  are 
unthinkable  to  the  uninitiated,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  could  say,  "'I  feel  some  emo- 
tion," and  immediately  paint  a  picture  to  ex- 
press it 

Many  times  the  mountains  called  him,  some- 
times in  a  mood  of  exultation  and  again  of 
quiet  and  meditation.  Of  the  former  mood 
the  "Mountain  Top"  (Fig.  28),  Institute  of 
Art,  San  Francisco,  symbolises  a  spiritual  ex- 
altation that  no  words  could  convey.  Surely 
the  artist  has  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Great 
White  Throne. 

Homer  D.  Martin  (1836-1897)  and  Alex- 
ander H.  Wyant  (1836-1892)  stand  with 
George  Inness  in  the  triangle  that  represents 
American  landscape  painting  in  the  nineteenth 
century.  Inness,  ten  years  the  elder,  did  sound 
the  first  note,  but  in  so  doing  he  struck  a  chord 
in  the  artistic  natures  of  the  other  two  that 
responded  and  gave  out  notes  as  clear  and 
original  as  his  own. 

Homer  Martin  truly  sings  to  us  on  the  harp 
in  the  ''Harp  of  the  Winds"  (Fig.  29),  Met- 
ropolitan Museum  of  Art.  The  breeze  steal- 
ing through  the  slender  poplars  must  be  whis- 
pering a  sweet  melody  to  the  bowing  trunks 
and  waving  branches,  and  they  in  turn  are 
repeating  the  strain  to  the  placid  water  where 


6o         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


they  are  mirrored.  This  picture  is  a  symphony, 
a  poem  and  a  colour  harmony. 

Martin,  excepting  a  few  weeks  of  instruc- 
tion, was  a  self-taught  artist.  He  spent  sev- 
eral years  in  Europe,  where  he  was  associated 
with  Whistler,  but  not  even  that  powerful, 
magnetic  man  could  change  the  inner  spring  of 
Martin's  artistic  nature.  There  was  something 
inside  the  man  that  compelled  him  to  sift  out 
essentials.  Almost  austere,  yet  never  unkind, 
in  his  searching  for  the  elementary,  he  places 
before  us  the  very  framework  of  nature.  Look 
again  at  the  "Harp  of  the  Winds.''  Sky,  rocks, 
trees  and  water — bare  facts.  Was  there  ever 
sweeter  music  with  fewer  details?  The  sug- 
gested hamlet,  the  clinging  bushes,  the  float- 
ing clouds  and  the  all  but  leafless  trees  are 
warm  from  the  hands  of  the  Creator.  They 
draw  us  close  to  the  beginning  "and  God  saw 
that  it  was  good."  When  this  picture  was 
sent  to  Germany  a  few  years  ago  to  repre- 
sent America  it  was  a  wise  choice.  It  is  true 
that  not  always  are  our  artists  big  enough  to 
hold  to  the  essentials;  simplicity,  like  a  gold 
thread,  is  the  fundamental  that  is  raising  up 
masters  in  our  midst. 

Although  Alexander  Wyant  was  born  in  a 
little  Ohio  village  away  from  art  centres, 
curiously  enough  he  heard  of  Inness  and  when 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  6i 


probably  only  twenty  saw  an  original  paint- 
ing by  Inness  in  Cincinnati.  This  so  fired 
young  Wyant's  ambition  that  he  made  a  trip 
over  the  mountains  to  Perth  Amboy  to  see  the 
master  and  ask  his  advice.  How  Inness,  who 
was  ever  responding  to  the  enthusiasm  of 
young  artists,  must  have  warmed  the  heart  of 
the  Ohio  boy  and  sent  him  home  with  an  in- 
tensified desire  to  paint  scenes  around  his 
home !  The  first  picture  Wyant  ever  exhibited 
in  the  National  Academy,  in  1865,  was  "A 
View  of  the  Ohio  River." 

Wyant  went  to  Germany  in  1864,  but,  dislik- 
ing the  methods  of  the  Diisseldorf  school, 
turned  to  the  Barbizon  masters  and  Constable 
and  Turner  in  England.  His  stay  in  Europe 
was  short.  On  returning  to  America  he  set- 
tled in  New  York  City.  When  he  was  at  the 
height  of  young  manhood  he  met  with  a  dis- 
aster that  would  have  ended  the  art  career  of 
a  lesser  man.  Not  being  well,  he  joined  a  gov- 
ernment exploring  expedition  to  Arizona  and 
Mexico,  hoping  to  gain  strength.  But  the 
hardships,  exaggerated  by  the  cruelty  of  the 
leader,  so  undermined  his  health  that  he  was 
stricken  with  pai  alysis  and  never  regained  the 
use  of  his  right  hand.  But  Wyant  had  some- 
thing worth  while  to  give  the  world  and  no 
handicap  could  deter  him.   The  cunning  of  the 


62         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


right  hand  was  transferred  to  the  left  and  his 
art  ripened  and  matured  under  the  inward 
strength  of  the  seer. 

^  Let  us  stand  before  his  "Forenoon  in  the 
Adirondacks"  (Fig.  30),  Metropolitan  Mu- 
seum of  Art,  and  watch  the  light  on  the  distant 
hills.  Listen:  we  almost  hear  the  whisper  of 
the  leaves  under  the  caress  of  the  sun.  And 
the  little  winding  stream,  how  it  babbles  as  it 
passes,  and  how  solemnly  the  tall  grey  birch 
tree  guards  its  laughing  waters !  No  one  knew 
better  than  Wyant  how  to  harmonise  them. 
Sometimes  he  gathers  the  sun's  rays  in  Oc- 
tober into  one  great  mass  of  golden  light  and 
floods  a  low-lying  marsh  until  the  feathery 
grasses  and  dignified  cat-tails  glimmer  and 
glisten  like  burnished  gold ;  and  again  the  sub- 
dued light  stealing  from  a  shaded  nook  is  his 
and  only  the  hilltop  feels  the  sun.  His  shades 
are  never  gloom  and  his  sunshine  is  ever  a 
benediction.  It  is  not  surprising  that  every 
year  his  pictures  increase  in  value,  for  they  are 
the  works  of  one  inspired  of  God. 

William  Gedney  Bunce  (1840-1916),  spe- 
cially known  for  his  Venetian  scenes,  comes  a 
little  closer  to  modern  methods,  without  break- 
ing with  traditions  of  the  past.  He  has  the  pa- 
tience that  waits  until  a  scene  has  literally  be- 
come a  part  of  himself.   This  often  results  in 


Fig.  31 


. — Morning  in  Venice.    Bunce.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  63 

his  painting  nature  as  he  sees  her  and  not  as 
she  is.  There  is  no  question  but  that  a  "Morn- 
ing in  Venice"  (Fig.  31)  is  a  scene  of  the 
artistes  vision.  It  gives  the  spirit  of  Venice — 
and  a  spirit  that  is  insistent  in  its  appeal — but 
it  is  Mr.  Bunce  who  has  conjured  up  the  spirit. 
His  pictures  have  a  true  decorative  value 
founded  as  they  are  on  the  mysterious  spell 
of  the  Venetian  colour  of  sky  and  water  and 
sail-boats.  It  matters  little  what  objects  are 
represented  with  so  bewitching  a  colour  ele- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  VI 


HOMER 

TI/^INSLOW  HOMER  (1836-1910),  though 
trained  entirely  in  American  schools, 
was  big  enough  in  spirit  to  grasp  the  great 
essentials  of  true  art  and  give  to  the  world  an 
art  that  appeals  to  humanity.  Old  ocean  was 
never  lashed  to  canvas  in  his  moods  of  fury 
until  Homer  boimd  him.  At  first  he  used  the 
angry  or  sullen  waves  as  simple  settings  for 
scenes  somewhat  anecdotal  in  character  but 
always  human  in  interest.  In  the  ''Fog  Warn- 
ing" (Fig.  32),  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston, 
the  boatman  is  one  of  that  company  of 
^'shipmen  who  had  knowledge  of  the  sea." 
The  man  shows  no  hurrying  born  of  fear  in 
the  long  sweep  of  the  steady  arms,  nor  yet  does 
he  ignore  the  danger  of  fog  and  storm — his 
courage,  born  of  experience,  is  cautious, 
steady  and  enduring. 

We  are  becoming  so  accustomed  to  thinking 
iOf  Winslow  Homer  as  the  painter  of  the  ocean 
that  we  feel  a  little  surprised  when  we  see  his 

64 


Fig.  33 — Hark,  the  Lark!    Homer.    Courtesy  of  the  Layton  Art 
Gallery,  Milwaukee. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  65 

other  pictures.  The  surprise,  however,  is  an 
exceedingly  pleasant  one  in  the  Layton  Gal- 
lery, Milwaukee,  Wis.,  where  the  picture  is 
^^Hark,  the  Lark!"  (Fig.  33).  The  charm  of 
the  ocean  is  in  it — the  salt  air,  the  stiff  breeze, 
the  sand  dunes,  but  above  all  the  free  life  of 
the  fisher  folk.  Yes,  I  know  there  is  the  sad 
story  of  those  who  follow  the  sea,  but  people 
who  stop  at  the  song  of  the  lark  are  not  all 
sadness.  What  eager  comely  faces  these 
young  women  have,  and  how  far  removed 
from  the  peasant  folk  of  the  old  world !  Native- 
born  American  women  are  these  toilers,  with 
aspirations  that  lift  their  souls  to  the  heights 
and  make  of  drudgery  something  more  than 
simply  existing.  Surely  Wordsworth's  words 
would  find  a  response  in  the  hearts  of  these 
three. 

"Up  with  me !  up  with  me  into  the  clouds ! 

For  thy  song,  Lark,  is  strong; 
Up  with  me,  up  with  me  into  the  clouds ! 

Singing,  singing, 
With  clouds  and  sky  above  thee  ringing, 

Lift  me,  guide  me  till  I  find 
That  spot  which  seems  so  to  thy  mind !" 

It  was  not  unusual  for  Homer  to  see  pictures 
in  the  homely  scenes  of  the  farm,  particularly 
when  it  was  a  simple,  usual  occurrence  in  the 


66         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


life  of  a  half-grown  boy.  In  the  "Unruly 
Calf"  (Fig.  34),  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences, Brooklyn,  how  well  Homer  under- 
stood that  no  animal  is  more  likely  to  take 
a  sudden  stand  for  no  earthly  reason  than 
a  half -grown  calf — particularly  a  pet  one — 
and  that  no  brute,  for  its  size,  can  be  more 
firmly  rooted  to  the  ground.  Its  four  legs 
are  so  many  posts  set  to  brace  each  other. 
Why  the  animal  stops  no  one  can  tell.  It  is 
sheer  stupidity,  I  suspect.  The  boy  may  pull 
and  twist  at  the  rope  with  all  his  strength ;  but 
what  cares  that  big-eyed  quadruped  for  a  rope 
around  his  neck?  The  scene  is  delicious  in  its 
entire  truth  to  nature.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  country  is  perfect;  the  disgust  of  the  boy 
and  the  contrariness  of  the  calf  are  simply 
bits  of  real  life  that  make  us  forget  everything 
but  the  outcome  of  the  struggle  between  the 
two.  Homer  knew  that  especial  episode  well ; 
perhaps  he  knew  the  very  negro  boy  who  was 
sent  to  bring  the  calf  home.  The  whiff  of  the 
country  that  such  a  picture  brings  is  a  veritable 
tonic  to  tired  bodies  and  fagged  brains. 

We  realise,  however,  that  Homer  knew  the 
ocean  as  few  people  knew  it.  His  home  for 
years  was  Scarboro,  Me.,  out  on  a  spit  of 
land  where  the  sight  and  sound  of  the  ocean 
were  ever  present.    Here  he  made  those  stu- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  67 


pendous  masterpieces  of  old  ocean — veritable 
portraits  of  the  mighty  deep  ''where  the  floods 
lift  up  their  waves/'  We  unconsciously  draw 
our  cloaks  closer  as  we  look  at  the  ''North- 
easter" (Fig.  35),  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art.  The  spray  dashing  against  the  brown- 
black  rocks  fairly  strikes  our  faces  and  the 
great  breaking  wave  is  bound  to  overwhelm 
us.  What  a  restless,  resistless  force  is  moving 
those  mighty  waters!  The  swish  of  the  spray 
and  the  roar  of  the  breakers  fill  our  ears  as 
we  drink  in  the  grandeur  of  the  scene. 

The  ocean  became  more  and  more  the  real 
theme  of  Homer's  paintings,  yet  he  never  lost 
sight  of  its  relationship  to  man.  The  artist's 
heart  was  big  with  human  sympathy,  and  not 
even  constant  communion  with  the  roar  of 
waters  in  his  home  on  the  Maine  coast  could 
make  him  forget  the  fisher  folk  who  dwell  by 
the  sea.  And  how  marvellous  his  insight  into 
the  heart  qualities  that  made  possible  such  a 
scene  as  "The  Gale"  (Fig.  36),  Worcester 
(Mass.)  Art  Museum.  That  strong,  fearless 
woman,  like  a  young  lioness  in  its  native  forest, 
moves  along  the  rock-bound  coast  confident  in 
her  power  yet  watchful  of  the  ever-changing 
and  merciless  monsters  pitted  against  each 
other.  The  awful  noise  of  the  bellowing  wind 
and  roaring  water  would  terrorise  a  landsman, 


68  .       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


but  not  so  this  child  of  the  sea.  Her  ears  are 
accustomed  to  the  angry  growl  of  the  elements. 
She  is  concerned  only  in  the  safety  of  her  lit- 
tle one.  Her  mother-instinct  responds  to  the 
exhilaration  of  conquering  opposing  forces. 
The  wide-eyed  child  knows  no  fear. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  "The  Gale"  won  a 
gold  medal  at  the  Chicago  World's  Fair  in 
1893,  and  yet  the  artist's  modest  price  of  fif- 
teen hundred  dollars  was  reduced  to  the  pitiful 
sum  of  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  before 
it  found  a  purchaser.  And  now,  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  later,  the  Worcester  Art 
Museum  paid  to  Snedecor  and  Company,  New 
York  City,  approximately  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars— the  highest  price  ever  paid  for  an  Ameri- 
can picture  by  an  American  artist — for  this 
masterpiece  that  belongs  to  the  ages.  The  pity 
of  it  is  that,  as  from  time  immemorial,  master- 
artists  still  have  little  financial  benefit  from 
their  works.    Who  is  to  blame? 

''The  Wreck"  (Fig.  37),  Carnegie  Institute, 
Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  American  in  setting,  has  the 
spirit  of  the  follow-the-sea-folk  that  Homer 
put  into  his  earlier  works.  The  merciless 
power  of  the  ocean  is  the  underlying  theme, 
yet  the  unflinching  courage  of  the  life-saving 
crew  is  the  human  element  that  holds  us. 
Again  we  feel  that  Homer's  profound  rev- 


Copyright,  Carnegie  Institute. 

Fig.  37 — The  Wreck.   Homer.    Courtesy  of  the  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh. 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    CopyrigJii,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

Fig.  38 — SunUght  on  the  Beach.     Homer.     Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of 

Art,  Toledo. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  69 


erence  for  the  mighty  waters  that  cover  the 
deep  was  sweetened  by  his  great  sympathy 
with  humanity.  A  man  of  strong  imagination, 
tempered  by  a  self-control  that  gripped  him, 
he  centred  his  art  on  a  broad  and  wholesome 
understanding  of  man's  strength  and  nature's 
powers. 

We  might  almost  call  the  ''Sunlight  on  the 
Beach''  (Fig.  38)  the  "Home-coming."  The 
steamer  steadily  nearing  the  port  speaks  vol- 
umes; the  joy  of  the  home-coming  is  in  the 
glad  sunlight  that  sparkles  on  the  dark  green 
waters  around  it  and  dissipates  the  mist  of  the 
land  storm  sweeping  out  to  sea.  How  the  petty 
and  mean  sink  out  of  sight  in  this  glorious  pic- 
ture! Homer's  interpretation  of  the  mighty 
deep  is  a  revelation.  We  feel  that  its  majesty 
and  power  reflect  the  One  ''who  hath  measured 
the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand." 

And  the  "Coming  Storm"  (Fig.  39),  Lotos 
Club,  New  York  City,  is  another  phase  of  the 
troubled  waters  as  distinctive  as  a  real  storm 
always  is.  How  these  fisher-folk  must  feel 
every  turn  of  the  wind,  every  piling  of  the 
clouds,  every  tumbling  of  the  waves,  knowing 
that  their  loved  ones  are  at  the  mercy  of  these 
untamed  monsters!  Into  their  hearts  must 
come  "Peace,  be  still,"  of  far  off  Galilee,  with 
a  new  meaning. 


70         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

There  is  no  question  about  Winslow  Homer 
standing  for  American  art.  It  was  his  picture 
in  Paris  in  1900  that  compelled  foreigners  to 
note  the  fact  that  he  was  more  than  an  Ameri- 
can painter.  It  was  then  that  just  a  faint  sug- 
gestion entered  the  minds  of  Europeans  that 
America  might  have  an  art  of  its  own  in  time. 
Were  it  not  for  the  stupidity  of  it,  the  idea — 
for  it  is  now  only  an  idea — that  we  have  no 
art  would  be  amusing.  Yet  it  still  clings  to 
the  minds  of  some  of  our  own  people,  as  well 
as  to  those  of  our  contemporaries  across  the 
water.  Our  artists  are  something  like  the  chil- 
dren who,  in  their  parents'  eyes,  never  grow 
up.  But  why  even  mention  a  circumstance 
so  far  in  the  past  and  especially  when  discuss- 
ing paintings  by  Winslow  Homer  ? 


CHAPTER  VII 


FULLER— JOHNSON— VEDDER— COLEMAN 


S  soon  as  an  individual  or  a  people  has 


reached  the  stage  of  development  that 
calls  for  a  recognition  from  the  world,  it  gives 
an  impetus  to  the  whole  being  that  raises  each 
part  to  a  much  higher  standard.  When  the 
United  States  celebrated  its  hundredth  anni- 
versary at  Philadelphia,  in  1876,  and  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth  came  to  congratulate,  the 
whole  body  politic  assumed  a  new  dignity,  and 
each  part  became  conscious  of  its  own  impor- 
tance. This  was  particularly  true  of  the  fine 
arts.  Our  position  as  an  agricultural  people, 
as  a  manufacturing  people,  as  an  inventive 
people,  and  as  a  generally  progressive  people 
had  been  recognised  and  commented  upon,  but, 
except  in  individual  cases,  our  standing  in  the 
art  world  as  a  nation  had  attracted  no  special 
attention.  From  this  time  in  our  history  we 
are  to  be  reckoned  with  from  the  artistic  stand- 
point as  well,  although  it  has  taken  another 


72         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

twenty-five  years  before  the  artistic  training 
could  be  gained  in  our  art  centres. 

They  were  not  all  young  artists  who  came 
under  the  spell  of  the  new  activity  by  the  cele- 
bration of  the  nation's  birthday,  but  artists 
who  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  been  keep- 
ing abreast  of  the  times  and  were  keen  for  any 
movement  where  the  trend  was  toward  prog- 
ress. Not  all  of  the  men,  however,  were  work- 
ing before  the  eyes  of  the  public.  Take  a  man 
like  George  Fuller  (1822-1884),  an  artist 
whose  pictures  are  being  justly  recognised.  He 
was  born  in  Deer  field,  Mass.,  and  the  little 
training  he  ever  had  was  gained  in  Albany 
and  Boston.  When  his  "Quadroon,''  Metro- 
politan Museum  of  Art,  was  exhibited  in  the 
early  sixties,  or  possibly  in  the  fifties,  the 
criticism  was  so  adverse,  it  is  said,  that  for 
eighteen  years  the  artist  sent  nothing  more 
to  the  exhibition. 

Fuller  was  seeing  beauty  in  the  hazy  atmos- 
phere and  mist-covered  fields.  To  him  the 
luminous  morning  veil  and  the  dull  shadows 
of  evening  were  softening  influences  of  nature. 
We  feel  in  the  "Quadroon"  that  the  girl's  dull 
soul  is  hidden  under  a  transient  veil  rather 
than  that  the  artist  has  taken  this  means  to 
soften  the  tragedy  of  a  clouded  mind. 

During  the  formative  years  of  work  Fuller 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  73 


was  struggling  to  support  his  family  on  a  mort- 
gaged farm,  but  making  of  himself  a  sane, 
well-balanced  man.  Though  his  efforts  to 
wrest  a  living  from  the  land  failed,  in  1876, 
his  pictures,  the  by-products  of  farming,  saved 
the  day.  The  point  of  view  after  a  score  of 
years  had  changed,  and  the  public  now  bought 
with  enthusiasm.  For  the  remaining  eight 
years  of  his  life  he  had  purchasers  for  every- 
thing he  did.  Fuller  was  unique  in  his  work ; 
without  the  fundamental  of  all  art,  drawing, 
he  produced  with  colour  and  atmosphere  a 
sentiment  in  his  pictures  that  contains  the 
very  essence  of  poetry. 

^^The  Fuller  Boy"  (Fig.  40),  City  Art  Mu- 
seum, St.  Louis,  has  a  charm  that  nothing 
can  mar.  He  is  a  real  child,  with  the  quaint 
earnestness  of  one  used  to  hearing  and  in- 
stinctively understanding  the  family  problems. 
This  boy  could  have  felt  intuitively  the  father's 
hurt  over  a  rejected  picture,  but  could  only 
express  his  sympathy  in  a  dumb,  childlike  de- 
votion. 

Eastman  Johnson  (1824- 1906)  was  big 
enough  to  study  at  Diisseldorf  without  losing 
his  personality.  Association  with  Leutze — a 
man  of  generous  impulses — strengthened  rath- 
er than  weakened  his  artistic  independence. 
After  studying  the  old  masters  in  Italy  and 


74         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Paris  and  spending  four  years  at  The  Hague, 
he  settled  in  New  York  and  painted  American 
subjects  in  his  own  American  manner. 

Johnson's  genre  pictures  of  the  Southern 
negro  before  the  war  are  real  bits  of  history. 
They  are  original  and  unusual  in  their  por- 
trayal of  the  negro's  natural  traits  of  character 
and  give  us  a  better  understanding  of  them  and 
their  future  development.  One  of  his  strong- 
est paintings  is  ''The  Old  Kentucky  Home" 
(Fig.  41),  New  York  City  Public  Library, 
which  was  exhibited  in  the  Paris  Salon  of  1867 
and  again  at  the  Centennial  of  1876.  Johnson 
knew  just  how  to  picture  the  shiftless  sur- 
roundings of  the  slave,  and  yet  retain  that 
picturesque  quality  that  was  the  charm  of  the 
slave  quarters.  Time  may  come  and  time  may 
go,  but  the  glamour  of  Uncle  Remus  and  Bre'r 
Rabbit,  the  strumming  of  the  banjo  and  the 
dancing  of  the  cake-walk,  the  cheer  of  the  wide 
fireplace  and  the  odour  of  the  hoe-cake  will 
still  hang  over  those  ramshackle  cabins. 

As  a  portrait  painter,  Mr.  Johnson  was  a 
man  of  no  mean  merit.  His  good  taste  and 
fine  judgment  made  a  place  for  him  among 
the  young  men  of  genius,  and  his  knowledge  of 
modern  methods  kept  him  in  touch  with  their 
plan  of  work  in  any  particular  line. 

The  most  striking  thing  about  Elihu  Vedder 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  75 

(1836-)  IS  that  he  is  a  man  of  ideas.  He 
is  perfectly  independent  in  his  choice  of  sub- 
jects, rather  whimsical  at  times,  but  truthful 
in  his  mode  of  presentation  and  ideal  in  mo- 
tive. The  material  which  he  gathered  from 
the  old  Italian  masters  has  served  him  merely 
as  suggestions  in  working  out  his  composi-' 
tions,  with  no  hint  of  the  counterfeit  in  the 
manner  of  work.  In  ''The  Sphinx"  (Fig.  42), 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston,  a  subject  used 
by  several  older  artists,  he  is  unique  in  his 
idea  of  infinity  in  the  vastness  of  the  outlying 
desert  and  of  unsatisfied  questionings  in  the 
silent,  mysterious  watcher  that  so  long  defied 
the  inquisitive  excavator.  The  riddle  of  the 
Sphinx  is  one  of  the  myths  of  Ancient  Greece. 

The  Sphinx,  a  monster  with  a  lion's  body 
and  the  upper  part  a  woman,  crouched  on  top 
of  a  rock  on  a  highroad  of  Thebes  and  stopped 
every  traveller  to  solve  her  riddle  and  if  the 
answer  was  not  correct  she  killed  the  victim. 
The  king  and  queen  of  Thebes,  Laius  and  Jo- 
casta,  had  one  son,  but  an  oracle  prophesying 
that  he  was  dangerous  to  the  throne,  Laius  left 
him  on  Mount  Cithseron  with  feet  pierced  and 
tied  together.  A  herdsman  of  Corinth  found 
the  child  and  took  him  to  king  Polybus,  who 
adopted  him  and,  because  of  his  swollen  feet, 
called  him  CEdipus. 


76         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

When  QEdipus  was  grown  he  met  Laius  in 
a  narrow  road  on  his  way  to  Delphi.  Neither 
would  give  place  to  the  other  and  QJdipus 
killed  Laius,  not  knowing  that  he  was  his 
father.  The  Sphinx  was  afflicting  the  country 
at  the  time  with  her  riddle.  CEdipus,  nothing 
daunted,  went  to  hear  the  riddle.  She  said: 
"What  is  that  which  in  the  morning  goes  on 
four  feet,  at  noon  on  two,  and  in  the  evening 
on  three?''  CEdipus  answered,  ''man,  who  in 
childhood  creeps  on  hands  and  knees,  in  man- 
hood walks  erect,  and  in  old  age  with  the  aid 
of  a  staff.''  The  Sphinx  was  so  angry  at  his 
wisdom  that  she  threw  herself  from  the  rock 
and  died.  The  people  of  Thebes  were  so  grate- 
ful that  they  made  CEdipus  their  king  and  he 
married  Jocasta,  not  knowing  that  she  was  his 
own  mother.  A  terrible  pestilence  and  fam- 
ine soon  overtook  Thebes  and  when  CEdipus 
learned  from  the  oracle  what  he  had  done,  he 
put  out  his  own  eyes  and  wandered  forth  at- 
tended by  no  one  but  his  daughter  Antigone. 

Another  example  of  Mr.  Vedder's  peculiarly 
original  work  is  *Xazarus,"  in  the  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  Boston.  It  is  a  weird,  strange  pic- 
ture full  of  miraculous  spirit.  Mr.  Vedder  al- 
ways gives  the  impression  of  invisible  powers 
stirring  in  the  garments  and  of  mysterious 
happenings  among  surrounding  objects.  A 


Fig.  40— The  Fuller  Boy.   Fuller.   Courtesy  of  the  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis. 


Fici.  41 — The  Old  Kentucky  Home.    Johnson.    The  Pubhc  Library,  New  York 

City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  77 


swish  of  wings  is  heard  in  the  swirHng  drap- 
ery. 

The  friendship  of  Elihu  Vedder  and  Charles 
Caryl  Coleman  (1840)  is  that  where  two 

''Great  souls  by  instinct  to  each  other  turn, 
Demand  alliance,  and  in  friendship  burn." 

One  of  Mr.  Coleman's  earliest  paintings  is 
that  of  Mr.  Vedder  in  his  (Coleman's)  studio 
in  New  York  City.  To-day  these  two  artists 
are  living  within  a  stone's  throw  of  each  other 
at  Capri,  Italy.  Wonderful  old  villas  these  two 
men  have  chosen  as  their  homes — snuggling 
against  the  steep  hills,  smothered  with  vines 
heavy  with  luscious  fruit,  with  wide  windows 
for  peep-holes  sweeping  the  Bay  where  to  ^^see 
Naples  and  die"  means  to  live  in  God's  Para- 
dise. 

Mr.  Coleman  is  so  intimate  with  old  Vesu- 
vius that  its  travails  of  pain  are  choicest  mo- 
ments of  inspiration  to  him.  Just  let  the  old 
giant  begin  to  belch  forth  and  Mr.  Coleman  is 
ready  with  canvas  and  brush  to  record  her  con- 
vulsions. His  series  of  paintings  of  the  last 
great  eruption  when  the  vomitings  continued 
for  days  is  a  historic  record  of  untold  value. 
In  fact,  not  since  the  younger  Pliny's  time  has 
there  been  so  vivid  a  picture  given  of  Vesuvius 
in  action. 


78         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

But  Mr.  Coleman  records  things  near  his 
studio  door  with  equal  skill.  ''The  Oil  Mill" 
(Fig.  43)  has  stood  its  ground  against  the 
powers  of  Old  Vesuvius  since  the  year  One 
(A.D.)  and  is  still  pouring  out  pure,  unadul- 
terated olive  oil — a  rebuke  to  volcanic  spite. 
The  charm  of  Mr.  Coleman's  pictures  is  the 
warm,  personal  note  that  like  a  gold  thread 
binds  them  to  us.  Rich  in  colour,  the  old  walls 
and  stone  jars  and  brick-paved  floors  glow 
under  his  brush.  Again  and  again  he  lets  us 
look  into  some  workshop  and  beyond  to  the 
sunlit  court  giving  glimpses  of  private  affairs 
as  intimate  as  the  Little  Masters  of  Holland. 


Fig.  43 — The  Oil  Wells.    Coleman.    Courtesy  of  the  Artist. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


LA  FARGE— RYDER 

JOHN  LA  FARGE  (1835-1910)  stands 
alone  in  the  modern  art  world — a  painter, 
a  mural  decorator,  a  discoverer  of  the  adapt- 
ability of  opaline  glass,  and  a  writer.  Yet  he 
entered  his  career  under  protest,  for,  as  he  said, 
''No  one  has  struggled  more  against  his  destiny 
than  I ;  nor  did  I  for  many  years  acquiesce  in 
being  a  painter,  though  I  learned  the  methods 
and  studied  the  problems  of  my  art.  I  had 
hoped  to  find  some  other  mode  of  life,  some 
other  way  of  satisfying  the  desire  for  a  con- 
templation of  truth,  unbiased,  free,  and  de- 
tached." 

La  Farge  was  a  dreamer  and  a  student,  and 
these  opposite  qualities  gave  him  the  double 
power  of  one  "who  not  only  sees  the  world  as 
a  pageant  of  coloured  light,  but  has  found 
means  to  express  his  visions."  One  character- 
istic of  his  art  was  the  pose  or  gesture  of  his 
figures.  Although  he  had  made  a  special  study 
of  anatomy,  he  never  allowed  his  scientific 

79 


8o         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


knowledge  to  interfere  with  the  significance 
of  the  emotion  he  wished  to  express.  This 
thought  is  admirably  brought  out  in  "Adora- 
tion'' (Fig.  44),  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences, Brooklyn.  The  pose  of  the  figure  to 
the  minutest  details  is  suggestive  of  the  most 
exalted  worship  of  a  Higher  Being.  The 
elongated  body  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
uplift  of  the  soul,  as  expressed  in  the  shining 
face.  Our  eyes  follow  easily  and  naturally 
the  long  folds  of  the  white  robe  from  the  ex- 
tended foot  to  the  raised  hatids — the  hands 
alone  express  adoration — and  the  lifted  head. 
The  stained  glass  window  from  this  painting  is 
in  the  Church  of  the  Paulist  Fathers,  Colum- 
bus Avenue  and  Fifty-ninth  Street,  New 
York  City. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  while  gathering 
personal  incidents  about  Mr.  La  Farge  and 
his  ''Adoration''  to  find  that  Mrs.  J.  Hunger- 
ford  Milbank,  founder  of  the  International 
Order  of  Military  Women  (to  develop  mental 
and  physical  poise — the  fundamentals  toward 
world  peace),  New  York  City,  when  a  girl 
posed  to  the  artist  for  his  "Adoration"  and 
"St.  John,"  in  the  Cathedral.  One  day,  in  a 
reminiscent  mood,  Mrs.  Milbank  said,  "Men- 
tally I  see  again  the  studio  in  Tenth  Street, 
and  the  thin,  rather  bent  genius,  which  was 


Fig.  44 — Adoration.    La  Farge.    Courtesy  of  the  Institute 
of  Arts  and  Sciences,  Brooklyn. 


Fig.  45 — The  Wolf  Charmer.    La  Fargo.    Courtesy  of  the  City  Art  Museum, 

St.  Louis, 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  8i 


John  La  Farge.  La  Farge  liked  to  take 
down  my  hair  and  arrange  it  himself.  He 
made  a  delightful  play  of  it,  first  carefully  re- 
moving my  sailor  hat,  then  drawing  out  the 
pins  one  by  one,  and  watching  the  light  in  each 
part  of  the  sunny  mass  as  it  fell  over  my  shoul- 
ders. How  well  I  remember  sitting  upon  a 
low  stool  while  he  bent  above  me,  his  thin  face 
seeming  to  fill  out  and  grow  radiant  with  the 
joy  of  the  task.  As  my  sittings  werje  not 
paid  afifairs,  the  conversation  often  took  a 
friendly  turn.  I  tried  to  justify  my  neglect  of 
my  art  (he  had  chided  her  with  fatherly  se- 
verity for  not  pursuing  it),  saying  that  I  was 
growing  within  to  greater  things  by  my  studies 
in  Greek  philosophy.''  Much  discussion  fol- 
lowed. Then  Mrs.  Milbank  again  gave  a  word 
picture,  as  she  said,  ''Like  a  beacon  light  which 
has  not  dimmed  through  the  years  is  the  inci- 
dent of  his  quietly  leaving  his  easel  and,  palette 
on  thumb,  coming  to  stand  beside  me.  For  a 
moment  he  rested  his  hand  upon  my  head,  look- 
ing down  into  my  face,  and  there  was  silence 
— then  came  his  strongly  prophetic  words: — 
'Yours  is  more  than  art.  You  shall  make  good 
citizens.'  "  What  a  tribute  to  the  reclaiming 
power  of  women — a  power  that  begins  at  the 
cradle  but  never  ends. 

In  an  interview  some  years  ago  Mr.  La 


82         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


Farge  gave  ''The  Wolf  Charmer"  (Fig.  45), 
City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis,  as  his  repre- 
sentative picture.  He  said:  ''The  picture  I 
have  chosen  for  you  interests  me,  perhaps, 
as  much  from  associations  of  travel  and  read- 
ing as  for  special  artistic  success — I  made  it 
to  be  one  of  a  series  of  some  hundred  subjects 
more  or  less  fantastic  and  imaginary.  This 
one,  of  course,  was  based  on  the  superstition, 
a  European  belief,  which  I  came  across  in 
Brittany,  where  I  spent  some  time  in  my  early 
youth."  Mr.  La  Farge  never  carried  out  his 
plan  of  making  these  books  for  young  people. 

The  were-wolf,  supposed  to  be  a  man,  was 
usually  like  a  wolf,  but  sometimes  like  a  white 
dog  or  black  goat,  and  again  it  was  an  invisi- 
ble being  roaming  about  devouring  infants. 
The  term  bug- wolf  instead  of  bug-bear  is  used 
in  France,  and  scarcely  a  century  ago  even  the 
men  with  bagpipes  and  hurdy-gurdies  were 
thought  to  be  conjurers.  La  Farge  takes 
Goethe's  "Gipsy  Song"  to  explain  his  Wolf- 
Charmer.  He  says:  "The  gipsy  has  killed, 
you  know,  the  black  cat  of  the  village  witch, 
and  outside  in  the  night,  with  the  call  of  the 
owl,  he  is  attacked  by  wolves.  But  he  knows 
them;  they  are  the  women  of  the  village  and 
he  calls  them  and  insults  them  by  name — 
'Kate,'  'Anna'  and  'Bee'    The  poem  and  its 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  83 


meaning  of  the  tamer  of  the  real  wolf  and 
the  man-wolf  gave  me  my  subject/' 

Looking  at  the  picture,  we  see  that  down 
through  the  forest  defile  glides  the  wolf- 
charmer.  He  gnaws  at  his  bag-pipe,  sending 
out  weird,  persuasive  calls,  until  the  real  wolves 
steal  out  and  follow  him.  His  bent  body  and 
bowed  head,  his  cautious  step  and  gripping 
hands  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  his  evil- 
looking  companions.  The  strange  note  of  sym- 
pathy in  the  wild  music  and  the  charmer's  wolf- 
like  face  have  subdued  the  ravenous  beasts 
until  unafraid  they  swing  along  the  narrow 
defile  as  docile  as  dogs  following  their  mas- 
ter. 

As  a  church  mural  painter  John  La  Farge 
was  an  epoch  maker  in  American  art.  None 
knew  better  than  he  the  religious  value  of 
colour.  His  glorious  altarpiece  in  the  Church 
of  the  Ascension,  New  York  City,  is  a  har- 
mony of  colour  that  plays  upon  our  heart 
strings  like  strains  from  the  immortal  Bach  on 
the  great  organ.  And  in  the  decoration  of 
public  buildings  his  keen  insight  and  sympa- 
thetic understanding  led  him  beyond  the  ap- 
pearance of  things  to  the  underlying  essentials. 
We  feel  the  bigness  of  his  visions  even  in  the 
minutest  details,  for  he  never  sacrificed  art 
principles  to  gain  an  appearance.  Composi- 


84         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


tion,  drawing,  handling  and  even  colour  were 
his  means  to  an  end — and  that  end  was  to  un- 
derstand the  spiritual  significance  of  life. 

The  opalescent  tone  of  the  painting  of  "The 
Halt  of  the  Wise  Men"  (Fig.  46),  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  Boston,  has  the  same  jewel-like 
quality  of  La  Farge's  stained  glass  windows. 
Prismatic  colours  were  to  him  the  strings  from 
which  he  drew  the  most  exquisite  harmony. 
He  interpreted  nature  through  his  colour 
sense,  and  whether  he  wrote  with  pen  or  with 
brush  the  same  vision  of  delicate  shimmering 
colour  rises  before  us.  Look  at  the  blending 
tints  hovering  over  the  level  plain  beyond  the 
Wise  Men  and  their  attendants  and  note  the 
subdued  glory  gathered  into  the  equipment  of 
the  little  company  in  the  foreground.  Now 
listen  to  his  colour  scheme  in  his  ''Letters  from 
Japan" :  ''Our  rooms  open  on  the  water — that 
same  blue  water  spangled  with  sunshine  and 
fading  into  sky  .  .  .  The  still  heat  of  the  sun 
burned  across  our  way,  spotted  by  the  flight  of 
many  yellow  butterflies.  .  .  .  The  heated  hills 
on  each  side  wore  a  thin  interlacing  of  violet 
in  the  green  of  their  pines  ...  A  vivid 
green  against  the  background  of  violet 
mountains  .  .  .  except  where  the  sun  struck 
in  the  emerald  hollow  above  the  fall.  ...  A 
rosy  bloom,  pink  as  the  clouds  themselves. 


Fig.  46 — The  Halt  of  the  Wise  Men.    La  Farge.    Courtesy  of  the  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 


FitJ.  47— The  Waste  of  Waters,    l^ydcr.  Courtesy 
of  the  Institute  of  Arts  and  Scieuccs,  Brooklyn. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  85 


filled  the  entire  air  .  .  .  the  spray,  the  waves, 
the  boat,  the  bodies  of  the  men  glistening  and 
sufifused  with  pink." 

John  La  Farge  is  rightly  called  the  Nestor 
of  our  painters.  His  chief  characteristic  was 
"to  do"  modified  by  "to  know."  He  had  a 
"nervous  activity,  unappeased  by  any  effort, 
unsatisfied  by  any  experience,  and  seeking  and 
seeking  again."  His  insatiable  desire  to  know 
led  to  his  marvellous  discoveries  in  stained 
glass — he  was  the  inventor  of  modern  stained 
glass  windows  and,  by  a  process  entirely  orig- 
inal, he  made  that  material  as  subservient  to 
his  needs  as  were  the  pigments  on  his  palette. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  opalescent  qual- 
ity of  his  glass  is  reminiscent  of  Japan;  of 
its  marvellous  works  of  art  and  most  of  all 
of  its  colour  harmony  in  nature.  We  feel 
this  to  be  specially  true  when  Mr.  La  Farge 
wrote,  as  he  so  often  did,  of  drifting  out  into 
the  hazy  moonlight  into  a  far  ofiF  ocean  with 
no  shore  nor  sky;  and  when  he  said,  "We 
were  the  centre  of  a  globe  of  pearl;  no  edges 
nor  outlines  of  anything  visible,  except  a  faint 
circular  light  above  from  which  the  pearly 
colour  flowed  tremulously,  and  a  few  wrinkles 
of  silver  and  dark  below."  The  trembling,  iri- 
descent tones  hovering  over  that  fairy  land 
took  possession  of  the  artist's  soul  and,  later, 


86         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


when  conquering  the  material  means  of  opera- 
tion, a  glorious  colour  harmony  was  working 
itself  out  in  the  laboratory  of  his  brain. 

Our  first  impression  on  seeing  a  collection 
of  Albert  P.  Ryder's  (1847)  pictures  is  that 
an  exquisite  colour  scheme  has  been  carried 
to  the  nth.  power  of  perfection.  It  seems 
as  though  all  nature  had  been  put  under  bond 
to  contribute  to  her  wealth.  The  very  small- 
ness  of  the  pictures  enhances  their  gem-like 
qualities.  That  tiny  canvas  picturing  a  wo- 
man in  red  walking  down  an  avenue  of  yellow 
autumn-coloured  trees  is  a  veritable  carbuncle 
set  in  Etruscan  gold.  Each  dainty  creation 
is  a  revelation  in  the  jewel-like  quality  of  pig- 
ments and  of  the  artist's  deep  sense  of  the  value 
of  colour  in  interpreting  his  theme.  It  is  im- 
possible to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  the  beauty 
of  Mr.  Ryder's  pictures  in  a  black  and  white 
reproduction,  for  so  much  of  their  real  sig- 
nificance lies  in  the  harmony  of  the  colour 
tone ;  yet  the  underlying  thought  is  still  there, 
even  in  a  half-tone.  No  one  can  mistake  the 
meaning  of  ''The  Waste  of  Water  Is  Their 
Field"  (Fig.  47),  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences, Brooklyn.  That  vigorous  scene  tells 
the  life-story  of  those  toilers  of  the  sea  in  a 
simple  straightforward  manner.  To  those 
men  the  scudding  clouds  and  rolling  waters 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  87 


present  as  many  moods  to  be  reckoned  with  as 
the  changing  temper  of  a  mob  swayed  by  the 
impulse  of  the  moment.  Strong  and  alert, 
they  humour  and  coax  the  elements,  but  never 
lose  control  in  holding  in  leash  the  power  that 
might  bring  destruction. 

Then  turn  to  the  quiet,  restful  scene  "In  the 
Stable"  (Fig.  48),  where  the  colourful  shad- 
ows are  ''like  a  vibrant  music  string."  Po- 
etic? Yes,  with  much  of  emotional  imagin- 
ings, yet  it  stirs  old  memories  of  feeding  time, 
of  the  favourite  white  horse  so  gentle  and 
trustworthy,  of  the  biddy  that  came  with  her 
chicks  to  the  feast.  Just  such  scenes  shape 
themselves  in  the  blazing  logs  at  the  rest  time 
of  the  tired  business  man- — scenes  from  the  dim 
and  shadowy  past  when  life  was  all  in  the  fu- 
ture. Mr.  Ryder  touches  nature  so  tenderly 
and  reverently  that  the  rough  places  smooth 
out  and  life  ceases  to  be  all  grind. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHISTLER 

"^J"©  greater  genius  has  arisen  in  the  art 
world  since  Rembrandt  than  James  Ab- 
bott McNeill  Whistler  (1834- 1903),  but  to 
separate  the  artist  from  the  man,  bristling  with 
eccentricities  and  constantly  at  variance  with 
the  painter  and  the  philistine  alike,  is  not  an 
easy  task  to-day.  The  time  will  come  when 
Whistler,  the  great  master,  will  fulfil  his  own 
words  in  the  world's  estimate  of  his  works  of 
art.  "A  work  of  art,''  said  he,  "should  appear 
to  the  painter  like  a  flower — perfect  in  its  bud- 
ding as  in  its  flowering,  with  no  reason  to  ex- 
plain its  presence  and  without  need  of  beauti- 
fying it — a  joy  for  the  artist,  an  illusion  for 
the  philanthrope,  an  enigma  for  the  botanist, 
an  accident  of  sentiment  and  of  alliteration  for 
the  man  of  letters." 

Whistler  was  born  in  Lowell,  Mass.,  and 
died  in  Chelsea,  England,  and  was  buried  in 
Chiswick  graveyard  beside  his  mother;  but 
who  can  say  to  what  country  belongs  his  art? 

88 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  89 

Except  for  a  short  time  in  Gleyre's  studio,  he 
learned  from  all  painters,  especially  from  the 
Japanese  artist,  Hokusai  (died  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century),  who  impressed  him 
as  a  man  of  god-like  qualities.  One  time 
Whistler  said,  with  that  superior  air  so  char- 
acteristic of  him,  "Yes,  there  is  Velasquez, 
Hokusai,  and — myself/'  No  two  artists  in- 
fluenced him  more  than  these  two,  but  even  the 
bias  from  them  was  purely  Whistler  when  it 
appeared  on  Whistler's  canvases. 

The  one  thing  that  he  excelled  in  above  all 
others  in  his  painting  was  the  ''maximum  effect 
with  the  minimum  of  effort,"  but  that  effort 
was  "the  result  of  the  studies  of  a  lifetime," 
as  he  himself  said. 

As  we  stop  before  Giovanni  Boldini's  "Por- 
trait of  Whistler"  (Fig.  49),  Institute  of  Arts 
and  Sciences,  Brooklyn,  I  hear  you  exclaim, 
"So  that  is  Whistler!"  Yes,  "the  Whistler 
whom  the  world  knew  and  feared."  We 
find  as  we  compare  it  with  the  portrait  of 
his  mother,  the  same  flat  cheeks  and  hollow 
temples;  the  frontal  bone  has  the  same  curve 
over  the  eyes;  the  wrinkle  that  begins  at  the 
base  of  the  nose  and  drops  to  the  chin  is  there ; 
the  mouth  is  the  same,  only  the  son  smiles  half 
contemptuously,  half  kindly,  but  the  mother's 
mouth  expresses  no  transient  emotion,  only  the 


90         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

habitual  control  of  years.  We  feel  like  asking, 
'Was  this  the  true  Whistler?"  Probably  not 
the  one  his  mother  knew,  but  the  one  Boldini 
knew.  Whistler  himself  said  of  it,  ''They  say 
it  looks  like  me,  but  I  hope  I  don't  look  Hke 
thatr 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pennell,  in  mentioning  this 
portrait  in  their  biography  of  the  artist,  say 
that  "it  is,  however,  a  wonderful  presentment 
of  him  in  his  very  worst  mood,  and  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy (who  went  with  Whistler  to  Boldini's 
studio)  remembers  that  he  was  in  his  worst 
mood  all  the  while  he  posed.  It  is  the  Whistler 
whom  the  world  knew  and  feared."  Whistler 
hated  posing  and  took  little  naps  in  between. 
But  Boldini  caught  him  in  his  waking  moment 
with  photographic  exactness,  so  like  him  that 
Mrs.  Pennell  says:  "You  might  be  looking  at 
Mr.  Whistler's  reflection  in  the  glass  as  he 
sits  there,  his  right  elbow  on  the  back  of  his 
chair,  his  head  resting  on  the  extended  fingers 
of  the  hand,  the  other  hand  holding  his  hat  on 
his  knee  ...  in  this  sort  of  achievement  no 
one  can  be  compared  to  M.  Boldini." 

If  Whistler  had  painted  but  the  one  picture, 
"My  Mother"  (Fig.  50),  in  the  Luxembourg, 
Paris,  his  fame  would  have  gone  down  to  pos- 
terity as  surely  as  that  of  the  author  of  the 
"Elegy."    He  says:    "Take  the  picture  of 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Dcirou  I'ubiishiny  Co. 


Fig.  49 — Portrait  of  Whistler.  Boldini.  Courtesy  of  the  Institute 
of  Arts  and  Sciences,  Brooklyn. 


Fig.  50 — My  Mother.    Whistler.    Luxembourg,  Paris. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  91 


my  mother,  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy 
as  an  'Arrangement  in  Grey  and  Black/  Now 
that  is  what  it  is.  To  me  it  is  interesting  as  a 
picture  of  my  mother;  but  can  or  ought  the 
public  care  about  the  identity  of  the  portrait?" 
We  feel  like  protesting  and  saying,  "What  does 
the  public  care  about  the  picture  as  an  'Ar- 
rangement in  Grey  and  Black'  compared  to  its 
interest  in  the  picture  as  a  portrait  of  a 
mother — the  type  of  true  motherhood?"  The 
mother  element  is  strong  in  that  calm,  force- 
ful old  lady  quietly  meditating  as  she  sits  with 
folded  hands.  Her  peace  has  come  through 
mental  and  spiritual  discipline,  for  to  her  life 
means  eternity. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  several  years  ago  to 
hear  Mr.  John  White  Alexander  say  in  sub- 
stance, holding  a  letter  from  Whistler  in  his 
hand,  ''Whistler  told  his  mother  upon  leaving 
America  that  he  would  come  home  to  her  when 
he  had  made  a  success,  but,"  Mr.  Alexander 
added,  "success  financially  did  not  come  and 
that  kept  him  from  returning  to  America." 
Fortunately,  his  mother  went  to  him,  which 
softens  a  little  the  pathos  of  unappreciated 
genius. 

It  was  twenty  years  after  Whistler  painted 
his  mother's  picture  before  he  found  a  pur- 
chaser, and  then  the  French  nation  bought  it, 


92         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

though  it  was  offered  to  America  for  twelve 
hundred  dollars.  It  seems  incredulous  that  we 
should  have  been  so  purblind  to  the  value  of  a 
great  masterpiece. 

In  ''At  the  Piano''  (Fig.  51),  owned  by  Ed- 
mund Davis,  Whistler  has  given  a  touch  of 
home  life  that  speaks  volumes.  That  idea  was 
probably  the  farthest  from  his  mind — as  "an 
arrangement"  in  a  particular  colour  was  para- 
mount with  him — but  could  anything  speak 
more  eloquently  for  sympathy  between  mother 
and  daughter  than  this, — the  child  held  spell- 
bound not  alone  by  the  music  but  by  the  mother 
as  well?  And  it  is  a  lovely  picture.  Every 
line  in  the  composition,  every  colour  element, 
every  gradation  of  tone  are  perfect.  The 
music  itself  could  not  soothe  us  with  a  more 
harmonious  melody  than  does  this  picture.  As 
we  look  at  the  mother  and  child  we  feel  the 
spirit  of  Whistler  in  them  and  rightly  so,  for 
the  mother  is  Mrs.  Seymour  Haden,  Whistler's 
sister.  As  Whistler  often  used  this  little  niece 
in  his  pictures  there  must  have  been  a  bond 
of  sympathy  between  the  uncle  and  niece. 

Look  at  ;the  folded  arms  of  the  ''Black- 
smith of  Lyme  Regis"  (Fig.  52),  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  Boston.  Was  ever  a  smithy  more 
sure  of  his  strength?  We  could  say  of  this 
man, 


Fig.  52 — The  Blacksmith  of  Lyme  Regis.    Whistler.    Courtesy  of  the  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  93 

*'He  earns  whatever  he  can ; 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 
For  he  owes  not  any  man." 

It  is  possible,  however,  as  we  study  care- 
fully the  sideways  glance  of  the  master  smith's 
eyes  that  Whistler  is  also  peering  out  of  those 
pupils  and  with  that  baffling  hint  of  mysterious 
understanding  that  held  his  creditors  at  bay. 
The  closer  we  observe  the  works  of  the  master 
painter  the  more  convinced  we  are  that  in  each 
work  he  has  left  a  vital,  living  part  of  himself. 

In  his  "Study  in  Rose  and  Brown"  (Fig. 
53),  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts,  Muskegon,  Mich., 
we  feel  that  little  Rose's  calm  rebellion — will 
deny  no  one  that  she  has  pitted  herself  against 
the  whole  world — has  a  suggestion  of  a  child 
understanding  far  beyond  her  years.  Back  of 
those  eyes  of  the  blacksmith's  daughter  is  an 
uncanny  spirit  of  mocking  self-assurance  that 
only  love  and  faith  could  conquer.  She  is  as 
individual  a  personality,  with  her  searching 
eyes  of  almost  uncanny  intelligence,  as  the 
artist  himself.  Now  look  at  her  hands  and  see 
if  we  can  rid  ourselves  of  her  influence  as  a 
living  power.  Such  a  child  lives  as  does 
Maggie  Tolliver  and  Little  Nell. 

Whistler,  in  his  "Gentle  Art  of  Making 
Enemies,"  said,  "As  music  is  the  poetry  of 
sound,  so  is  painting  the  poetry  of  sight,  and 


94         AMERICAN  PICTURES 


the  subject  matter  has  nothing  to  do  with  har- 
mony of  sound  or  colour."  He  no  doubt  gave 
here  the  keynote  to  his  religion  in  art.  But 
when  we  come  to  consider  the  portraits  of  his 
^^Mother,"  "Carlyle,"  "Little  Rose  of  Lyme 
Regis,"  and  "The  Master  Smith  of  Lyme 
Regis,"  we  are  not  sure  that  he  told  the  whole 
truth  of  his  religion.  Truly  the  character  of 
his  sitters  as  the  "subject  matter"  is  just  as 
important  in  these  pictures  as  is  his  "harmony 
of  colour."  We  admit  that  not  often  was 
Whistler  interested  in  people  per  se,  but  when 
he  was  who  could  or  did  show  greater  insight 
into  their  character? 

The  "Portrait  of  Sarasate"  (Fig.  54),  Car- 
negie Institute,  Pittsburgh,  compels  our  at- 
tention, and  no  wonder,  for  it  is  one  of  Whis- 
tler's character  sketches.  Possibly  the  eminent 
Spanish  violinist  may  be  remembered  quite  as 
well  through  this  representation  of  him  as  by 
his  own  wonderful  career.  I  well  remember 
the  impression  the  portrait  made  when  it  was 
first  exhibited  in  New  York  City  about  the 
year  Whistler  died,  1903.  The  picture  was 
hung  in  the  corner  of  a  long  room  opposite 
an  entrance  door.  I  hesitated  at  the  doorway 
because  the  presence  of  the  master  violinist 
was  so  intimate  and  warm  and  his  eloquent 
eyes  and  melancholy  face  were  so  instinct  with 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

Fig.  53 — Study  in  Rose  and  Brown.    Whistler.    Courtesy  of  the  Gal- 
lery of  Fine  Arts,  Muskegon,  Michigan. 


Copyright,  Carnegie  Institute. 

Tig,  54— Portrait  of  Sarasate.    Whistler.    Courtesy  of  the 
Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  95 


life  that  I  waited,  hoping  to  hear  again  his  in- 
terpretation of  the  mighty  Beethoven.  From 
Sarasate's  physique  and  carriage,  as  Whistler 
portrays  him,  one  might  almost  think  it  a  por- 
trait of  the  master  painter  himself  in  the  guise 
of  a  master  violinist.  Sarasate  and  Joachim 
were  dividing  honours  when  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury opened — Sarasate  died  in  1908 — and 
musical  critics  agree  that  "they  will  hold  their 
places  in  the  annals  of  violin  playing  as  the 
representatives  of  certain  elemental  excellen- 
cies in  art/' 

Of  Whistler's  portrait  rules  ''an  arrange- 
ment'' came  first,  then  later  the  individual's 
personality.  'In  the  Studio"  (Fig.  55),  Art 
Institute,  Chicago,  is  merely  "an  arrangement" 
pure  and  simple,  only  that  the  Whistler  per- 
sonality in  his  own  figure  is  so  compelling  that, 
after  all,  it  is  a  portrait  too.  Though  basically 
American,  was  ever  an  artist  more  cosmo- 
politan than  Whistler?  Unique  to  the  point 
of  being  eccentric  as  an  individual,  he  never 
dropped  to  the  vulgar  to  express  his  desire  for 
something  new  in  his  art.  Egotistic  he  was  in 
the  extreme,  but  always  holding  to  a  definite 
idea  of  wholesome  beauty.  We  may  not  agree 
personally  with  his  ideas  of  what  is  beautiful 
and  attractive,  but  we  always  feel  the  sweet 
purity  of  his  artistic  conceptions.   That  many 


96         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

of  his  themes  were  mere  personal  expressions 
of  some  abstract  ideas  floating  in  his  fertile 
brain  is  undoubtedly  true,  and  when  extreme 
Whistlerians  are  ecstatically  enthusiastic  over 
his  symphonies  we  feel  like  tapping  our  fore- 
heads with  a  sly  grin.  There  really  is  not 
much  that  we  can  say  of  "In  His  Studio,"  and 
he  himself  challenging  us  in  a  rather  contemp- 
tuous manner — but  is  it  contemptuous  or  only 
a  challenge  by  one  who  is  sure  of  himself? 

A  most  illusive  portrait  by  Whistler  is  the 
"Lady  with  the  Yellow  Buskin"  (Fig.  56), 
Wilstach  Gallery,  Philadelphia.  She  turns  as 
she  passes,  seemingly  to  glance  at  us,  but  where 
she  is  going  or  where  she  came  from  are  en- 
tirely beyond  our  knowledge.  Her  person- 
ality is  tantalising.  She  uses  no  art  to  draw 
us,  yet  we  would  follow,  if  only  to  solve  her 
identity.  Certainly  Whistler  has  here  brought 
together  simplicity  and  skill  in  the  most  per- 
fect manner. 

Yes,  Mr.  John  C.  Van  Dyke  is  right,  "It  is 
the  maximum  of  effect  with  the  minimum  of 
effort"  that  places  Whistler  among  the  great 
portrait  painters  of  the  world.  The  myste- 
rious essence  we  call  personal  charm  that  hov- 
ers around  his  people  is  of  the  spirit,  for  it  is 
rarely  that  he  represents  beautiful  women  or 
handsome  men.    In  fact,  the  reverse  is  so 


Fig.  57 — Connie  Gilchrist.    Whistler.    Courtesy  of  the  Met- 
ropolitan Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  97 


prominent  that  we  almost  feel  an  impatience 
at  his  perverseness,  then  we  smile  for  we  know 
that  he  has  made  us  admire  his  people  in  spite 
of  ourselves. 

The  portrait  of  "Connie  Gilchrist''  (Fig. 
57),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  is  one  of 
Whistler's  rare  examples  of  a  figure  in  motion. 
Connie  Gilchrist  was  a  popular  dancer  at  the 
Gaiety  in  London  in  1876.  She  is  represented 
as  on  the  stage  with  a  skipping  rope.  Whistler 
has  caught  her  just  as  she  flutters  light  as  a 
feather  over  the  gleaming  footlights.  Her 
mellow  brownish-yellow  costume  shimmers 
and  twinkles  like  a  butterfly  in  the  sun.  A 
colour  poem  the  painting  certainly  is!  It  re- 
minds us  of  the  Jersey  meadows  in  the  fall 
when  the  grasses  and  sedges  are  flaunting  their 
feathery  tops,  catching  every  golden  ray  until 
they  vie  with  the  topaz  in  gradation  of  colour. 

Whistler,  the  etcher,  is  as  distinctive  a  term 
as  Whistler,  the  painter.  'With  the  etching 
needle  in  hand  he  draws  as  only  Rembrandt 
had  drawn  before  him.  .  .  ."  writes  Mr.  Cor- 
tissoz.  Whistler  wrote  on  a  proof  of  one  of 
Rembrandt's  portraits,  "Without  flaw.  Beau- 
tiful as  a  Greek  marble  or  a  canvas  by  Tin- 
toret.  A  masterpiece  in  all  its  elements,  be- 
yond which  there  is  nothing."  And  to  it  af- 
fixes his  familiar  butterfly  monogram.  "The 


98         AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Portrait  of  Whistler"  (Fig.  58),  by  Thomas 
A.  Way,  from  whom  Whistler  learned  the 
process  of  lithography,  shows  the  artist  in  his 
workshop  examining  his  plates. 

One  who  knew  Whistler  well  in  his  home 
life  says  that  there,  with  his  beloved  Trixie 
(his  wife),  he  found  a  sanctuary  of  peace. 
Unfortunately,  his  ''Gentle  Art  of  Making 
Enemies"  was  so  strong  in  him  that  much  of 
the  time  enjoyed  he  had  little  peace  in  the 
world.  But  even  his  most  acrimonious  attacks 
on  the  public  do  not  acquit  that  public  of  its 
cruel  neglect  of  one  who  will  be  remembered 
long  after  many  of  the  public  favourites  are 
forgotten. 


CHAPTER  X 


HOVENDEN—MOSLER— MILLET— 
DUVENECK— THAYER 

pOSSIBLY  no  picture  has  ever  come  closer 
to  the  hearthstone  of  our  native  Ameri- 
can home  than  "Breaking  Home  Ties"  (Fig. 
59),  by  Thomas  Hovenden  (1840- 1895)  and 
owned  by  Mr.  Charles  C.  Harrison,  of  Phila- 
delphia. The  spirit  of  the  true  pioneer  is  in 
it.  The  home  is  that  of  the  typical  farmer 
where  the  family  is  a  unit.  Each  member,  from 
the  eldest  to  youngest,  has  been  part  and  parcel 
in  establishing  the  community  centre — the 
home — and  now  has  come  the  parting  of  the 
ways.  The  same  spirit  that  prompted  the  par- 
ents to  migrate  is  stirring  in  the  boy.  His  vis- 
ions are  of  a  world  beyond  the  farm,  and  the 
courage  of  youth  urges  him  into  the  unknown. 
A  wise  mother  is  the  little  woman  bidding  her 
boy  ''God  Speed."  He  does  not  understand  now 
the  great  heart-love  that  keeps  back  the  tears, 
but  all  through  the  years  he  will  feel  the  touch 
of  those  gentle,  hard-worked  hands  and  hear 

99 


loo       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


the  tender  words  of  parting.  No  obtrusive 
sentimentality  mars  the  quiet  reserve  of  the 
home-people,  yet  the  spirit  of  sympathetic  help- 
fulness is  there.  Hovenden,  with  a  true  artist's 
instinct,  has  told  artistically  a  story  that  speaks 
to  humanity. 

Thomas  Hovenden's  death  was  a  tragedy. 
Seeing  a  child  in  front  of  a  moving  train,  he 
jumped  and  saved  its  life  but  he  was  killed 
instantly.  The  artist's  little  son  saw  the  acci- 
dent and,  not  knowing  his  father  was  there, 
ran  for  a  doctor,  to  find  on  his  return  that  it 
was  his  own  father.  At  one  time  the  picture 
was  on  exhibition  in  Philadelphia,  the  pro- 
ceeds being  for  the  benefit  of  self-supporting 
students  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

As  a  story-teller  in  art,  with  pathos  the  dom- 
inant note,  Henry  Hosier  (1841)  took  the  pub- 
lic heart  by  storm  in  his  ^'Prodigal's  Return" 
(Fig.  60),  Luxembourg,  Paris.  It  is  the  old 
familiar  story  of  the  erring  one's  repentance 
coming  too  late  to  give  joy  to  the  waiting  par- 
ent. The  artist  has  put  into  the  kneeling  figure 
grief,  remorse,  despair — forgiveness  is  beyond 
his  reach.  Were  it  not  for  the  beautiful,  sym- 
pathetic face  of  the  priest,  who  stands  waiting 
for  the  first  paroxysm  to  pass,  the  scene  would 
be  one  of  utter  despair.  But  in  that  face  we 
read  the  comfort  that  will  heal  the  broken 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  loi 


heart  of  the  penitent.  Little  wonder  that  we 
Hnger  before  this  picture  in  the  Luxembourg 
Palace,  for  in  it  the  artist  has  proved  his  artis- 
tic ability  as  well  as  his  sincerity  in  dealing 
with  a  genre  subject. 

Another  of  Hosier's  most  charming  genre 
pictures  is  "A  Wedding  Feast  in  Brittany/' 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  The  scene  is 
an  incident  of  real  life  in  old  France  to-day 
and  also  verifies  a  bit  of  history  in  the  white 
sheet  hanging  in  the  background.  From  time 
immemorial  in  Brittany  the  bride  spins  and 
weaves  a  sheet  which  is  used  on  all  special 
occasions,  whether  of  joy  or  sorrow. 

Henry  Mosler  was  born  in  New  York  City, 
but  spent  his  childhood  in  Cincinnati,  Ohio, 
where  he  had  his  first  lessons  in  art.  He  went 
to  Europe  and  studied  in  Diisseldorf,  Munich, 
and  Paris.  That  his  work  has  been  greatly 
appreciated,  his  medals  and  honours — nearly 
a  score  of  them — from  the  art  societies  of 
Europe  and  America  will  testify. 

Francis  Davis  Millet  (1846-1912)  had  un- 
usual talents  in  many  directions.  What  is  most 
unusual,  he  cultivated  each  talent  to  the  point 
of  a  trained  professional.  Whatever  came  to 
his  hand  was  done  with  the  whole-heartedness 
of  one  who  loved  his  work.  It  mattered  little 
whether  he  was  acting  as  a  war  corre- 


I02        AMERICAN  PICTURES 


spondent,  illustrating,  writing  fiction,  travel 
and  criticism,  judging  old  pictures,  raising 
carnations  or  amputating  an  arm ;  he  did  each 
with  rare  excellence.  And  he  was  an  artist. 
His  portraits  alone  give  him  a  place  of  honour. 
Bayard  Taylor,  in  1878,  said  of  Millet's  por- 
traits of  Charles  Francis  Adams  and  Mark 
Twain:  "The  figures  are  solid,  they  detach 
themselves  immediately  from  the  background, 
and  are  a  refreshing  contrast  to  the  dim,  va- 
pory forms  which  some  portraits  give  us.'' 

In  genre  painting  Millet  strikes  a  personal 
note  that  is  most  convincing.  We  feel  in  ''The 
Cosy  Corner"  (Fig.  61),  Metropolitan  Mu- 
seum of  Art,  the  touch  of  one  who  loved  that 
particular  room.  Special  memories  cluster 
around  that  fireside  and  that  special  corner. 
Possibly  the  home-warmth  of  "The  Cosy  Cor- 
ner" helped  comfort  Millet  as  he  stood  on  the 
sinking  deck  of  the  fated  Titanic — such  holy 
memories  bring  us  close  to  the  Eternal  Home. 

Frank  Duveneck  was  born  across  the  Ohio 
River  in  Covington,  Ky.  (1848),  but  Cincin- 
nati is  the  proud  owner  of  a  large  number  of 
his  works.  Mr.  Duveneck,  as  an  instructor 
in  the  Art  Academy  of  Cincinnati,  has  trained 
and  influenced  numberless  students  of  the 
Middle  West  who  now  stand  as  masters  in 
the  modern  art  of  America. 


Fig.  64 — Portrait   of   Youn^?   Woman.     Thayer.     Courtesy   of   the  Metro- 
pohtan  Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS 


It  is  no  easy  task  to  select  special  pictures 
to  illustrate  his  work  from  among  the  many 
fine  examples  in  the  museum.  Probably  the 
most  popular  picture  is  the  'Whistling  Boy" 
(Fig.  62),  selected  by  the  artist  himself  as 
one  of  his  gifts  to  the  museum.  The  painting 
is  signed  with  Duveneck's  unique  monogram, 
followed  by  '^Munich,  1872."  This  little  fel- 
low is  a  German  and  he  is  the  type  of  a 
whistling  boy  of  any  country  or  any  clime. 
How  naturally  a  poet,  a  musician  or  an  artist 
drops  into  simple,  direct  and  regular  metre, 
rhythm  or  line  when  picturing  the  elemental 
in  life.  No  one  is  interested  specially  in  any- 
thing about  this  boy  but  the  puckered  red  lips 
and  the  tune  that  comes  from  them.  The  boy's 
listless  attitude  and  dreamy  eyes  give  the  char- 
acter of  the  music  he  is  remembering  and  softly 
reproducing.  We  could  never  tire  of  that  boy. 
His  mellow  whistle  is  of  one  already  compre- 
hending the  philosophy  of  living.  The  sketch 
of  the  boy's  clothes  proves  that  Mr.  Duveneck 
understands  impressionism,  even  in  the  ex- 
treme, but  that  he  is  master  of  it. 

And  that  the  artist  could  master  details 
broadly,  the  "Flower  Girl"  (Fig.  63)  is  ample 
proof.  Here  again  Mr.  Duveneck  chooses  a 
typical  figure  from  a  typical  class,  only  this 
time  the  class  is  confined  to  sunny  Italy  and 


I04       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

the  city  where  flowers  that  bloom  in  profusion 
give  it  its  name.  We  will  admit  that  the  ma- 
jority of  the  artist's  subjects  are  from  foreign 
parts,  but  we  are  conscious  that  Prank  Duve- 
neck  never  loses  his  own  identity  in  any  of 
them.  The  flower  girl  is  decidedly  an  Italian 
young  woman,  with  all  the  characteristics  of 
her  race,  yet  we  see  her  sitting  on  the  wall 
through  the  eyes  of  Duveneck,  the  American 
artist. 

It  is  of  little  consequence  whether  Albert  H. 
Thayer  (1849)  P^^s  wings  on  his  women  or 
not,  for  their  purity  envelopes  them  with  invis- 
ible wings.  ^'The  Portrait  of  a  Young  Woman" 
(Fig.  64),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  has 
an  element  of  sacredness  that  grips  our  hearts. 
Her  thoughtful,  mature  expression  marks  her 
innocence  as  that  of  knowledge — she  is  in  the 
world  but  not  of  it.  Such  a  woman  exempli- 
fies Michael  Angelo's  answer  to  the  critics  of 
Rome  that  the  Virgin  was  too  young  in  his 
Pieta.  "Don't  you  know,"  he  said,  *'that  chaste 
women  keep  their  youthful  looks  much  longer 
than  others."  Mr.  Thayer's  large  conception 
of  womanhood  lifts  us  from  petty  things  into 
an  atmosphere  of  truth — possibly  ideal,  but  al- 
ways wholesome.  His  high  standard  is  good, 
for  he  represents  the  sacredness  of  her  mission 
in  America. 


CHAPTER  XI 


ROBINSON— HARRISON— BRUSH— 
MELCHERS—MARR— TANNER 

T  T  seems  a  great  pity  that  Theodore  Robin- 
son's (1852-1896)  career  was  cut  short  at 
forty-four.  He  was  one  of  the  men  who,  under 
the  influence  of  his  personal  friend  Claude 
Monet  in  Paris,  grasped  the  underlying  prin- 
ciples in  the  new  movement — the  effect  of  light 
and  air  gained  through  light  shadows  and 
bright  colours — without  losing  the  qualities 
that  make  a  pleasing  picture.  He  had  the  com- 
mon sense  to  understand  that  many  old  art  ten- 
ets still  held  good  even  if  new  ones  were  being 
discovered,  and  his  originality  taught  him  how 
to  combine  the  new  and  the  old  to  advantage. 
"In  the  Sun"  (Fig.  65)  gives  no  evidence 
of  a  struggle  between  contending  factions; 
rather  it  breathes  contentment  and  satisfac- 
tion.  It  is  a  veritable  lyric  of  light. 

When  Thomas  Alexander  Harrison  (1853) 
painted  '^Castles  in  Spain''  (Fig.  66),  Metro- 
politan Museum  of  Art,  he  proved  not  only  his 

105 


io6       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


originality  in  dealing  with  scenes  in  the  full 
sunlight  but  his  understanding  of  boy-nature 
as  well.  This  picture  grips  us  with  its  in- 
vigorating salt  air,  its  vitalising  sun  bath,  its 
wholesome  boy  life,  and  its  intimation  of  the 
great  expanse  of  water  and  sky.  The  big  out- 
of-doors  is  ours  and  all  our  dreams  are 
realised  in  the  shell  castle  on  the  sand. 

Mr.  Harrison  studied  with  Gerome  in 
Paris,  but  his  work  is  far  beyond  the  lessons 
of  any  teacher.  He  sees  nature  with  perceiv- 
ing eyes  and  helps  us  to  see  her,  too.  Big 
enough  in  himself  to  profit  by  the  eccentric 
methods  of  those  artists  in  Paris  who  were 
evolving  a  new  art  in  their  close  study  of 
nature,  he  never  loses  his  sense  of  proportion. 
To  him,  as  to  all  heart  artists,  a  picture  must 
reach  the  heart  of  the  people.  Never  should 
that  mean  lowering  of  ideals,  however,  but 
rather  lifting  the  people  to  higher  planes. 

When  George  DeForest  Brush  (1855)  first 
began  his  art  career  he  painted  many  pictures 
of  the  American  Indian — pictures  that  sug- 
gest curious  tales  without  spoiling  their  artistic 
nature.  Later  he  became  more  and  more  in- 
terested in  home  scenes  and  the  people  around 
him.  Once  he  remarked  to  a  friend :  '1  shall 
never  be  satisfied  until  I  am  admired  by  the 
people  of  Cherry  Hill/'  meaning  his  neigh- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  107 

bours.  The  quiet  content  of  "Mrs.  Brush 
Reading  to  her  Children''  (Fig.  67)  is  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  picture.  The  peace  of  this 
home  dwells  in  the  mother-authority.  She 
guides  and  regulates  the  household  with  the 
steady  hand  of  one  whose  idea  of  love  is  Serv- 
ice— service  from  both  parents  and  children. 
The  intensely  human  element  in  these  mother- 
pictures  is  a  quality  belonging  peculiarly  to 
Mr.  Brush.  He  has  developed  a  mother-atmos- 
phere entirely  distinct  from  any  external  come- 
liness. His  heart  warmth  overbalances  mere 
beauty  of  person  until,  like  Rembrandt's  "Old 
Woman  Cutting  Her  Nails,"  the  drawing 
quality  of  his  mothers  is  irresistible. 

Mr.  Gari  Melchers  (i860),  born  in  Detroit, 
had  his  training  in  Paris,  but,  contrary  to 
prophecies  twenty  years  ago,  he  has  developed 
an  American  spirit  in  his  art  that  even  the 
French  influence  of  his  early  years  could  not 
obliterate.  The  "Portrait  of  Mrs.  Melchers" 
is  one  of  his  most  strikingly  characteristic 
works.  There  is  a  certain  dash  in  design  and 
colour  that  marks  the  individuality  of  the  art- 
ist. He  knew  his  model  and  has  dared  to  run 
the  gamut  in  a  dashing  colour  riot ;  yet  a  cer- 
tain restraint  in  both  model  and  artists  grips 
us. 

"The  Communion"  (Fig.  68),  by  Mr.  Mel- 


io8       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

chers,  is  a  marvellous  collection  of  portraits  of 
the  village  people  as  well  as  a  picture  of  rare 
excellence.  Those  earnest  people  fascinate  us 
as  people  do  who  believe  and  live  their  belief. 
Each  individual  is  a  character  study  and  col- 
lectively represents  the  character  of  the  village. 
Drawn  together  around  the  communion  table 
of  Our  Lord  as  a  community  centre  they  never- 
theless represent  varied,  and  probably  con- 
tending, interests  in  their  workaday  life.  Mr. 
Melchers  holds  firmly  to  life  as  it  is  among 
the  fisher-folk  and  village  centres.  He  never 
strays  into  sentimental  babblings.  The  joys 
and  sorrows  portrayed  in  his  pictures  are  the 
sentiments  of  a  people  who  consider  life  worth 
the  living. 

''The  Fencing  Master"  (Fig.  69),  Museum 
of  Art,  Detroit,  speaks  for  himself.  Like 
Moroni's  ''Tailor"  in  the  National  Gallery, 
London,  he  has  dignified  his  work.  No 
other  recommendation  is  necessary  but  this 
man  to  convince  one  that  fencing  is  the  kind 
of  exercise  to  produce  men.  If  those  of  our 
American  young  men  who  slouch  along  the 
street,  with  head  pushed  forward  and  feet 
shuffling  behind,  could  have  the  inspiration  of 
this  portrait,  I  am  sure  they  would  square  their 
shoulders  and  walk  like  men  of  affairs — and 


Fig.  67 — Mrs.  Brush  Reading  to  Her  Children.  Brush. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  109 

they  soon  would  be.  This  fencing  master 
never  worked  for  men  but  with  them. 

Mr.  Melchers'  pictures  have  a  strength  and 
virility  all  their  own.  The  bride  in  '*Mar- 
riage"  (Fig.  70),  Institute  of  Arts,  Minneap- 
olis, is  not  one  whit  less  womanly  because  she 
stands  unflinchingly  by  the  side  of  the  man; 
the  ceremony  is  to  her  a  bond  that  holds  for 
life;  she  sees  far  beyond  the  moment  and  feels 
that  her  own  soul  is  responsible  for  the  step  she 
is  taking.  Not  so  the  man.  To  him  this  is  the 
supreme  moment;  he  now  possesses  what  he 
has  sought,  and  cares  very  little  for  what  the 
future  has  in  store.  Mr.  Melchers  is  very  de- 
pendent upon  the  individuality  of  his  subjects, 
as  are  all  true  artists,  and  he  never  fails  to 
make  us  feel  that  character  is  the  basis  of  his 
portraits.  One  of  his  most  remarkable  por- 
traits is  that  of  Dr.  William  Rainey  Harper, 
late  President  of  the  University  of  Chicago. 

Mr.  Melchers  was  accorded  unusual  honour 
at  the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposi- 
tion (191 5)  in  having  a  special  gallery  set 
apart  exclusively  for  his  work.  Only  a  few 
other  artists,  leaders  of  various  schools,  had 
this  same  privilege  given  them.  Mr.  Mel- 
chers is  the  professor  of  art  in  the  Academy 
of  Weimar,  Germany. 

Carl  Marr  is  one  of  our  American  artists 


no       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


who,  unrecognised  in  his  own  country,  went  to 
Europe,  and  by  genius  and  great  perseverance 
has  won  a  name  for  himself.  His  return  to 
this  country  is  looked  upon  as  a  national  gain. 
Milwaukee,  his  native  city,  welcomes  his  home- 
coming with  all  the  honour  due  him.  She  may 
well  be  proud  of  her  famous  son ! 

''Silent  Devotion"  (Fig.  71),  Layton  Art 
Gallery,  Milwaukee,  is  one  of  Mr.  Marr's 
simpler  canvases  and  possibly  for  that  reason 
one  of  his  most  attractive  ones.  The  young 
wife  is  the  very  essence  of  peaceful  thinking 
untroubled  by  doubts.  She  has  listened  to  the 
World  and  her  mind  has  wandered  on  into 
realms  of  the  unreal,  yet  with  no  searchings 
for  the  unanswerable  problems.  The  play  of 
light  on  that  woman,  unconscious  of  the  world, 
is  as  beautiful  as  anything  in  modern  art. 
The  mobile  pensive  face,  the  shapely  arms  and 
hands,  the  expression  of  perfect  ease  in  the 
supple  body  are  all  there,  yet  the  illusive  charm 
is  the  filmy  palpitating  atmosphere  that  en- 
velopes the  whole. 

One  of  the  first  pictures  Mr.  Marr  painted 
that  was  recognised  with  a  medal  by  the  art 
critics  of  Germany,  was  ''Ahasuerus,  the  Wan- 
dering Jew"  (Fig.  72).  For  some  years  the 
picture  found  no  purchaser,  but  it  was  finally 
bought  and  presented  to  the  Metropolitan  Mu- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  in 


seum  of  Art,  New  York  City.  Mr.  Marr  has 
succeeded  in  giving  just  that  sense  of  mystery 
to  the  desolate  scene  of  rock,  sand,  water,  and 
sky  that  intensifies  the  legendary  story.  What 
a  world  of  despair  that  crouching  figure  of  the 
old  Jew  represents!  Since  he  refused  rest  to 
our  Saviour  when  He  was  bearing  His  cross, 
he  has  wandered  over  the  earth,  ever  seeking 
death,  but  never  finding  it.  And  yet  the  wom- 
an, so  beautiful  and  so  perfect  in  her  young 
maturity,  has  been  found  and  snatched  from 
life  and  all  its  promises.  The  old,  old  question 
of  why 

"Death  aims  with  fouler  spite 
At  fairer  marks" 

was  never  more  forcefully  asked  than  in  this 
painting. 

Mr.  Marr's  native  city  was  very  proud  when 
the  opportunity  came  to  purchase  his  master- 
piece, "The  Flagellants."  The  painting  is 
gigantic  in  size  and  shows  the  artist's  skill  in 
filling  a  large  canvas. 

Henry  O.  Tanner  is  peculiarly  interesting 
as  an  artist  with  negro  blood  in  his  veins.  He 
was  born  in  Pittsburgh  and  was  trained  both 
in  this  country  and  in  Paris.  He  is  a  man  of 
real  talent  in  painting,  and  his  exalted  ideas 
have  found  expression  in  his  many  religious 


112       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

subjects.  His  painting  of  "The  Two  Disciples 
at  the  Tomb"  (Fig.  73),  The  Art  Institute, 
Chicago,  is  decidedly  original.  The  disciples 
are  undoubtedly  Peter  and  John,  who  ran 
together  to  the  tomb,  and  the  moment  when 
''that  other  disciple  which  came  first  to  the 
sepulchre  saw  and  believed."  John  has  the 
vision  in  his  eyes  and  the  calm  assurance  in 
his  face  that  marked  his  career  as  the  beloved 
disciple,  the  St.  John  of  the  Revelations  and 
the  Gospel.  The  artist  has  caught  the  spirit 
of  one  who  "saw  and  believed/* 


Fig.  72 — The  Wandering  Jew.    Marr.    Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art. 


Fig.  73— The  Two  Disciples  at  the  Tomb.  Tanner. 
Courtesy  of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 


CHAPTER  XII 


BECKWITH— CHASE— COX 

TN  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New 
York  City,  is  a  portrait  of  William  Merritt 
Chase  (1849-1916),  by  John  Singer  Sargent, 
presented  as  a  gift  from  Mr.  Chase's  pupils  ''on 
account  of  his  unceasing  devotion  to  American 
students  and  American  art."  This  tribute  to 
Mr.  Chase  finds  a  response  in  the  hearts  of 
artists  and  art  lovers  alike,  for  his  influence 
as  an  instructor  is  universal  in  its  appeal.  His 
schools  in  New  York  City  and  Shinnecock, 
Long  Island,  and  his  travelling  classes  abroad 
have  been  most  potent  features  in  the  progress 
of  American  art  for  nearly  a  half  century.  To 
have  been  a  member  of  one  of  these  never-to- 
be-forgotten  classes  is  of  itself  a  guarantee 
that  the  foundation  is  true  even  if  the  super- 
structure falls.  How  many  of  his  students 
have  been  taught  to  see  beauty  in  the  forlorn, 
wind-swept,  undulating  country  of  Shinnecock! 
It  is  the  recognising  of  beauty  in  just  such 
barren  wastes  that  marks  Mr.  Chase  as  the 

113 


114        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

true  artist.  The  spontaneity  of  his  pictures 
is  one  of  their  greatest  charms.  His  inspira- 
tion, Hke  the  sparkle  on  champagne,  must  be 
caught  at  the  moment,  and  his  work  is  that  of 
a  trained  master,  with  every  faculty  under  per- 
fect control. 

Now  look  well  at  the  ''Portrait  of  William 
M.  Chase"  (Fig.  74),  John  Herron  Institute, 
IndianapoHs,  by  J.  Carroll  Beckwith  (1852), 
for  it  is  a  loving  appreciation  of  a  friend 
for  a  friend.  Both  men  are  westerners — 
the  West  of  forty  years  ago.  Mr.  Beckwith 
is  a  native  of  Missouri  and  Mr.  Chase  of 
Franklin,  Indiana.  Both  men  went  to  study 
in  Europe  at  an  early  age,  Mr.  Chase  to  Munich 
and  Mr.  Beckwith  to  Carolus  Durand,  in  Paris. 
Mr.  Beckwith  has  painted  the  portraits  of 
many  notable  persons  in  Europe,  particularly 
several  cardinals  of  Italy.  He  has  exhibited 
in  the  Paris  exhibitions  and  our  own  Acad- 
emies. This  portrait  of  Mr.  Chase  has  much 
of  the  same  direct  personal  element  that  Mr. 
Chase  himself  gives  to  the  likenesses  of  his 
sitters. 

Naturally  Mr.  Chase's  ''Alice"  (Fig.  75), 
Art  Institute,  Chicago,  attracts  us.  She  is  so 
girlish  and  wholesome.  Like  a  beautiful  cul- 
tivated flower,  she  is  the  product  of  the  guid- 
ing and  pruning  of  a  wise  parent — a  beautiful 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  115 

cultivated  child  of  nature.  She  moves  witH 
the  ease  and  grace  of  a  young  fawn  in  his 
native  home,  perfectly  unconscious  of  self, 
which  is  the  height  of  perfected  art.  Mr. 
Chase  commands  our  admiration  and  respect 
whatever  his  subject.  It  is  his  dignified  reserve 
and  moderation  and  his  insistent  originality 
that  give  him  the  place  of  honour  to-day. 

When  Mr.  Chase  combines  portraiture  and 
genre  painting  as  in  ''Alice"  and  "Dorothy" 
(Fig.  76),  Art  Institute,  Indianapolis,  he 
makes  pictures  that  are  simply  bewitching. 
Alice  has  a  charm  all  her  own  as  she  skips 
away,  laughing  at  her  own  power  to  please  us ; 
but  "Dorothy"  has  more  of  the  challenge  of 
the  young  miss  who  feels  her  power,  but  wants 
you  to  know  that  she  feels  it.  Both  have  the 
unconscious  grace  of  childhood,  with  the  awak- 
ened conscience  of  young  girlhood  just  mak- 
ing itself  felt.  Individually  "Alice"  and 
"Dorothy"  are  as  distinct  in  character  as  the 
two  girls  must  have  been  in  real  life.  And 
why  not?  They  are  Mr.  Chase's  daughters. 
Mr.  Chase  never  leaves  any  uncertainty  as  to 
the  personality  of  his  subjects.  They  demand 
our  attention  by  the  force  of  their  presence. 
We  could  no  more  ignore  "Dorothy,"  or  suc- 
ceed in  forgetting  her,  than  we  could  evade  the 


ii6       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


influence  of  any  strong  character  that  has  en- 
tered the  room  where  we  are. 

Let  us  look  again  at  ''Dorothy  and  Her  Sis- 
ter" (Fig.  77),  this  time  in  a  picture  that  the 
Luxembourg,  Paris,  has  recently  acquired. 
Mr.  Chase's  idea  of  technique  is  wonderfully 
verified  in  this  picture.  He  says:  ''To  my 
mind,  one  of  the  simplest  explanations  of  this 
matter  of  technique  is  to  say  that  it  is  eloquence 
of  art.''  And  then,  amplifying,  he  pictures 
a  great  orator  holding  his  audience  spell- 
bound. 

Yes,  it  is  the  eloquence  of  his  art  that  is  hold- 
ing us  before  his  pictures.  Was  anything  ever 
more  ideal  than  this  young  girl  sitting  at  ease 
as  she  listens  to  the  older  sister  who  leans  over 
her  shoulder?  How  perfectly  they  both  fit 
into  the  setting  and  how  exactly  the  setting 
fits  them !  "But,''  you  may  ask,  "where  is  the 
setting?  I  see  nothing  but  a  chair."  That  is 
just  the  point.  Mr.  Chase  makes  us  feel  the 
room,  the  yard,  the  place,  the  common  every- 
day surroundings  in  the  aliveness  of  his  figures 
and  the  quivering  air  that  envelopes  them. 

It  matters  not  one  whit  who  is  this  "Lady 
with  the  White  Shawl"  (Fig.  78),  Pennsyl- 
vania Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia ;  she 
is  every  inch  a  woman  and  a  woman  gently 
born.   Possibly  it  is  the  shawl  that  designates 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  117 


the  woman's  character,  for  only  one  to  the 
manner  born  can  wear  a  shawl  characteris- 
tically. Let  our  friend  of  the  round-shouldered 
type  try  wearing  a  shawl  and  see  how  it 
bunches  around  her.  It  is  not  surprising  that, 
in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1900,  the  place  of 
honour  was  given  to  the  "Lady  with  the  White 
Shawl."  Mr.  Chase's  portraits  give  the  en- 
semble of  the  person.  It  is  pose,  natural  not 
artificial,  that  the  artist  seeks.  An  amusing 
story  is  told  of  his  little  daughter's  understand- 
ing of  her  father's  quickness  to  catch  a  subject 
at  the  right  moment.  One  day  as  she  stood 
by  the  window  looking  at  the  sky,  she  called, 
'Tapa,  come  quickly!  here's  a  cloud  posing 
for  you."  The  aliveness  of  his  figures  testify 
to  his  keenness  in  grasping  individual  char- 
acteristics. 

She  is  certainly  a  dainty  miss  sitting  ''In  the 
Studio"  (Fig.  79),  Institute  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences, Brooklyn,  turning  the  leaves  of  the 
pattern  book.  Mr.  Chase  never  gave  a  more 
personal  note  to  a  young  woman  than  he 
has  to  this  one.  She  simply  dominates  the 
studio.  There  are  many  interesting  objects 
around  the  room  that  might  claim  our  at- 
tention were  it  not  for  her  presence.  And 
what  a  picture  it  is — painted  with  all  the  aban- 
don of  the  painter-artist  I    The  inspiration 


ii8       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


came  suddenly,  no  doubt ;  the  girl  and  the  book, 
perhaps,  unexpectedly  fell  into  position  and  the 
picture  immediately  shaped  itself  in  the  artist's 
mind.  Mr.  Chase's  alert  artistic  sense  has 
made  him  particularly  sensitive  to  the  pictorial 
qualities  of  bits  of  still  life,  of  dainty  interiors, 
of  busy  back-yards,  and  monotonous  stretches 
of  low  bushes  and  sand  dunes;  he  has  made 
them  all  sing  under  his  magic  brush. 

Now  look  at  these  "Fish"  (Fig.  80),  Met- 
ropolitan Museum  of  Art.  They  may  slip  out 
of  the  picture  before  we  have  time  to  examine 
them,  for  no  real  fish  are  more  slippery.  Fish 
are  not  usually  chosen  for  drawing  room  orna- 
ments, excepting  goldfish,  but  we  should  con- 
sider it  a  rare  privilege  to  possess  Mr.  Chase's 
fish.  One  wonders  if  the  cook,  knowing  her 
master's  propensities  to  see  art  in  her  suppHes, 
does  not  often  use  subterfuge  to  hurry  her 
fish  into  the  oven  and  her  vegetables  into  the 
pot  before  the  discerning  eyes  shall  see  them. 
Otherwise  her  meal  might  be  spoiled  for  lack 
of  sufficient  cooking.  It  is  laughingly  said 
that  Mr.  Chase's  household  is  ever  in  a  state 
of  preparedness  that  no  sudden  inspiration 
may  be  lost  or  his  mood  lack  a  subject. 

Mr.  Chase  himself  says  of  the  elements  of  a 
great  picture :  "I  maintain  that  they  are  three 
in  number — namely,  truth,  interesting  treat- 


Fig.  81 — Portrait  of  Chase. 


Chase.    Courtesy  of  the  Detroit  Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  119 


ment  and  quality."  And  then  he  amplifies: 
''By  truth  I  mean  that  the  picture  shall  give  the 
impression  of  a  thing  well  seen.  .  .  .  We  must 
add  to  it  (truth)  the  interest  of  the  artist,  and 
an  interest  which  shall  express  itself  in  his 
manner  of  treatment.  .  .  .  Quality  comes  as  a 
result  of  a  perfect  balance  of  all  the  parts  and 
may  be  manifested  in  colour  or  line  or  com- 
position. In  the  greatest  pictures  it  is  found 
in  all  three,  and  then  you  may  be  sure  that  you 
are  before  the  most  consummate  of  human 
works." 

Mr.  Chase's  success  as  an  artist  has  been 
phenomenal.  Even  as  early  as  1869  (^^  was 
then  thirty)  a  St.  Louis  gentleman  said  to  a 
friend,  ''Come  with  me;  I  have  a  young  man 
who  paints  so  well  that  I  dare  not  tell  him  how 
good  his  work  is."  The  St.  Louis  people  were 
so  impressed  with  his  genius  that  they  gave 
him  a  purse  for  a  long  stay  in  Munich.  That 
his  early  promise  has  been  more  than  fulfilled 
it  is  needless  to  add. 

The  last  "Portrait  of  William  Merritt 
Chase"  (Fig.  81 )  by  himself,  is  one  of  the  cher- 
ished treasures  of  the  Detroit  Museum  of  Art. 
In  191 5,  when  Mr.  Chase  was  having  an  exhi- 
bition of  his  pictures  in  the  museum,  the  direc- 
tor discussed  with  him  the  plan  of  starting  a 
gallery  of  self-portraits  of  our  American  art- 


I20       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


ists.  Mr.  Chase  was  enthusiastic  over  the  idea 
and  before  leaving  Detroit  presented  his  own 
self-portrait  that  was  in  his  exhibition,  saying, 
"I  would  like  to  start  the  gallery  of  self- 
portraits  if  you  will  accept  this  one  of  me." 
The  museum  is  doubly  proud  of  owning  the 
last  likeness  made  of  Mr.  Chase  and  that  it  is 
a  gift  from  the  artist  himself. 

Again  we  see  Mr.  Chase  in  the  "Portrait  of 
Saint  Gaudens"  (the  American  sculptor,  1848- 
1907)  (Fig.  82),  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art,  by  Kenyon  Cox  (1856).  The  figure  in 
the  bas-relief,  that  Saint  Gaudens  is  repre- 
sented as  working  on,  is  William  M.  Chase, 
his  friend  and  companion.  These  two  artists 
were  about  the  same  age.  This  painting  has 
quite  an  interesting  history.  The  original  pic- 
ture, painted  in  1887,  was  burned  in  Saint 
Gaudens'  studio  at  Windsor,  Vt.,  in  1904. 
Mr.  Cox  painted  this  replica  in  1908,  a  year 
after  the  sculptor's  death,  from  the  studio 
studies  he  still  had. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


BLAKELOCK—TRYON— MURPHY- 
WIGGINS— DEWEY 

Vy^HEN  "The  Brook  by  Moonlight"  (Eig. 

83),  by  Ralph  A.  Blakelock,  sold  at  auc- 
tion this  year  ( 1916)  for  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars the  picture-loving  public  added  another 
chapter  to  the  tragedy  of  artists'  lives.  It  is  an 
old,  old  story,  this  indifference  to  workers  with 
God-given  talents.  The  workers  are  not  many 
who  produce  the  masterpieces  of  the  world,  yet 
far  too  often  their  struggle  for  bare  existence 
is  more  than  body  or  brain  can  endure;  then, 
too  late,  comes  recognition. 

After  sixteen  years,  the  cloud  being  par- 
tially lifted  from  his  distracted  mind,  Mr. 
Blakelock  says  of  ''The  Brook  by  Moonlight" : 
"I  remember  now  how  I  pondered  the  trunk  of 
that  tree  for  a  long  time,  wondering  if  I  had 
made  it  thick  enough  to  support  all  the  mass 
of  top  branches  and  foliage."  Is  it  not  pa- 
thetic that  one  whose  keen  common  sense  kept 
his  picture  true  to  nature  should  have  been 

121 


122       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


subject  to  junk  dealers?  One  such  dealer 
said  to  Mr.  Daingerfield,  when  showing  him 
thirty-three  pictures :  "Ralph  Blakelock  painted 
every  one  of  them,  and  I  got  the  lot  for  one 
hundred  dollars/'  Oh,  the  pity  of  it!  And  we 
must  all  bear  the  blame. 

Ralph  A.  Blakelock  (b.  1847)  is,  or  rather 
was,  a  man  of  many  parts  in  his  art.  His  in- 
nate love  of  colour  has  given  him  an  individual 
command  of  pigments  most  characteristic,  and 
with  no  eccentric  qualities  to  mar  our  pleasure 
in  them;  then,  too,  he  has  a  subtle  genius  for 
leading  us  by  a  mysterious  hint  of  untold  beau- 
ties. The  wonderful  light  draws  us  in  "Ec- 
stasy" (Fig.  84),  though  we  feel  that,  like 
Wordsworth's 

"...  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land," 

it  is  a  will-o'-the-wisp  that  is  leading  us  and 
that  in  the  depths  beyond  is  a  world  where 
fancy  alone  can  feel  at  home.  Such  pictures 
express  an  exaltation  that  few  of  us  can  at- 
tain, yet  it  is  good  for  our  souls  to  contem- 
plate the  mysteries  that  haunt  these  solitudes. 
I  once  rode  alone  into  the  forest  primeval  above 
El  Capitan.  The  lingering  memory  of  those 
quivering  depths  of  light  and  shadows  is  quick- 
ened by  this  picture  of  "Ecstasy";  the  same 


Fig.  83 — The  Brook  by  Moonlight.  BUikelock.   Courtesy  of  the  Museum 
of  Art,  Toledo. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  123 


spirit  of  solitude  draws  and  repels,  while  that 
curious  feeling  of  wanting  to  know  but  hesi- 
tating to  intrude  is  present. 

Our  American  landscapists  certainly  awaken 
a  great  variety  of  emotions  in  us.  They  seem 
almost  to  vie  with  each  other  in  presenting  the 
various  moods  of  nature — at  times  she  is 
frankly  outspoken,  and  then  shyly  reticent, 
and  in  the  latter  mood  Dwight  William  Tryon 
(1849)  seems  to  know  her  best.  Like  Corot, 
Mr.  Tryon  thinks  it  no  hardship  to  be  up  be- 
fore sunrise  to  surprise  nature  as  she  dons  her 
morning  dress.  We  are  out-of-doors  with  her 
''Before  Sunrise,  June"  (Fig.  85),  Museum 
of  Art,  Detroit,  but  we  feel  like  intruders 
invading  a  sacred  shrine.  The  hush  in  the 
air  fairly  stifles  our  breath;  not  even  the 
birds  are  awake.  How  tenderly  he  has  lifted 
the  veil,  that  we,  too,  may  see  the  trees  all 
shimmering  in  their  early  bath  and  the  grass 
still  wet  with  the  glistening  dew  and  the  flow- 
ers lifting  their  heads.  The  sky  is  beginning 
to  smile;  all  are  making  ready  to  greet  the 
great  orb  of  day.  We  linger  long  before  this 
morning  anthem.  Tenderly  and  lovingly  it  has 
lifted  our  souls  into  the  very  presence  of  the 
Creator  and  sends  us  forth  stronger  men  and 
women  because  of  its  influence. 

Who  can  look  at  Mr.  Tryon's  ''November 


124        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Morning"  (Fig.  86),  John  Herron  Art  Insti- 
tute, Indianapolis,  without  feeling  the  thrill 
of  the  stiff  breeze  lifting  and  swaying  the 
tall  grass  and  crisp  bushes?  Was  there  ever 
such  riot  in  shades  of  brown,  soft,  luscious 
cream  tints  deepening  into  glistening  chestnut 
and  rich  seal  brown,  yet  with  the  summer's 
green  still  making  itself  felt?  Everywhere  and 
over  all  hangs  a  grey  tone  as  elusive  as  the 
odour  of  rosemary  off  the  coast  of  Spain.  I 
doubt  if  many  persons  could  look  out  on  a 
chilly  November  morning,  after  seeing  his  pic- 
ture of  it,  and  grumble,  ''Oh,  what  a  disagree- 
able morning!"  as  shivers  creep  up  and  down 
the  spine.  Mr.  Tryon  has  revised  Thomas 
Hood's  description  of  "November."  Of  course 
Hood  was  correct  so  far  as  the  mere  facts 
are  concerned,  but  his  angle  of  vision  saw  only 
the  drear,  and  Mr.  Tryon  is  just  as  correct  in 
picturing  the  cheer. 

Mr.  Tryon  has  a  way  of  arranging  his  com- 
position that  is  very  pleasing.  He  uses  some 
permanent  and  familiar  landmark,  such  as  a 
row  of  trees  or  an  old  fence,  as  the  sequence 
of  long  lines,  and  encloses  all  between  the  dis- 
tant sky-line  and  an  intimate  bit  of  dooryard 
or  meadow-brook  at  our  very  feet. 

When  a  painter  makes  ''quality"  his  ideal 
regardless  of  time,  of  mental  exertion  or  yearly 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  125 


output,  his  pictures  are  bound  to  be  master- 
pieces. We  are  not  surprised,  therefore,  to 
learn  that  Mr.  Tryon  considers  quality  the 
sumum  bonum  of  all  art.  In  reply  to  the  in- 
quiry, ''How  many  pictures  do  you  paint  in  a 
year,  Mr.  Tryon  the  artist,  with  an  indulgent 
smile  at  the  inane  question,  replied,  ''Some- 
times as  many  as  four  and  again  only  one.  It 
is  quality  I  want,  not  quantity.''  Then  he 
added,  "Not  long  ago  I  finished  a  picture  after 
working  on  it  four  years."  What  a  comment 
on  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  to-day,  in  art  as 
in  everything  else.  If  only  artists  could  un- 
derstand that  masterpieces  are  the  products  of 
the  concentration  of  trained  powers.  Thomas 
Gray  worked  seven  years  on  his  "Elegy"  and 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  after  four  years,  pro- 
nounced "Mona  Lisa"  unfinished. 

Peace  comes  to  us  in  the  presence  of  "Au- 
tumn Sunset,"  in  the  Worcester  Art  Museum 
(Fig.  87).  My  Tryon,  for  years,  has  been 
filling  his  soul  from  the  bounties  of  old  "Sol" 
and  has  gathered  into  this  sunset  the  glory- 
essence  of  all  autumn  time.  A  mystery  hovers 
over  the  scene  where  the  problem  of  life 
through  death  is  being  solved  by  nature's  silent 
forces.  We  bow  our  heads  a  moment  and  then 
lift  our  eyes  to  the  glory  in  the  great  beyond. 

Mr.  Tryon  has  an  exceedingly  sensitive  un- 


126       AMERICAN  PICTURES ' 


derstanding  of  God's  wide  out-of-doors.  No 
one  knows  better  than  he  how  to  stimulate 
through  our  imagination  the  sense  of  motion 
in  his  pictures.  In  his  sea  pieces  we  feel  the 
swish  and  swirl  of  waters,  though  a  mysterious 
film  hides  the  actual  movement ;  and  the  quiver- 
ing atmosphere  caressing  the  slow  moving 
clouds  and  soft  luminous  sand  of  the  fore- 
ground gives  an  added  sense  of  motion. 

And  Mr.  Tryon's  colour !  In  it  is  the  mys- 
tery of  all  colours.  It  has  been  my  privi- 
lege to  see  unfinished  canvases  of  the  art- 
ist where  the  colour  note  was  exceedingly 
bright.  In  answer  to  my  surprised  inquiry, 
he  said,  ''Yes,  I  begin  my  pictures  in  a  rather 
high  key,  but  in  finishing  I  bring  the  tone  down 
to  a  sense  of  mystery."  A  sense  of  mystery! 
That  is  the  element  that  holds  us  in  My  Tryon's 
pictures.  To  him  colour  and  motion  are  illu- 
sive— something  not  quite  within  our  grasp. 
Our  quickened  imagination  pursues  these 
sprites  that  sparkle  in  all  his  pictures. 

What  better  can  we  do  than  stand  quietly 
and  drink  in  the  beauty  of  the  artist's  "Spring 
Morning"  (Fig.  88),  Museum  of  Art,  To- 
ledo, Ohio?  Spring  morning!  The  words 
themselves  mean  everything  that  is  delicate, 
fresh,  full  of  joy,  the  joy  that  ''cometh  in  the 
morning."     Mr.   Tryon,   with   Inness  and 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

Fig.  88 — Spring  Morning.     Tryon.     Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo. 


Fig.  89 — At  Sunset.    Murphy.    Courtesy  of  the  City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  127 


Homer  and  men  like  them,  stands  for  Ameri- 
can landscape  painting.  These  men  have  given 
the  national  spirit  that  proclaims  to  the  world 
our  independence.  Never  was  there  a  more  in- 
dividual interpretation  of  a  spring  morning 
than  this  lovely,  tender  picture  of  it.  The 
light  creeping  up  the  horizon  is  lifting  the 
mist,  though  it  still  lingers  in  the  feathery  tree- 
tops  to  kiss  each  tiny  leaf-bud.  The  moist  air 
is  fragrant  with  the  delicious  odours  of  spring 
flowers  and  the  tender  grasses.  All  nature  is 
singing  praises  to  Him  whose  mercies  are  new 
each  morning.  For  years  Mr.  Tryon  has  been 
gently  and  persistently  leading  the  American 
people  into  an  appreciation  of  the  beautiful 
in  nature.  It  has  been  a  steady  growth  with 
the  artist  and  his  followers — clean,  pure,  up- 
right, and  progressive,  never  losing  sight  of 
the  fundamental  lessons  of  the  masters  of  the 
past,  but  adding  to  those  fundamentals  a  bet- 
ter understanding  of  God's  first  temples. 

Mr.  Tryon,  a  native  of  Hartford,  Conn., 
is  professor  of  art  at  Smith  College.  From 
the  beginning  of  his  career — ^he  was  a  pupil 
of  Charles  Daubigny  of  the  Barbizon  school — 
there  was  a  lyric  note  in  his  art  that  has 
strengthened  with  years.  Then,  too,  Mr. 
Tryon  has  kept  abreast  of  the  modern  spirit 
and  in  his  own  inimitable  way. 


128       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Turning  to  J.  Francis  Murphy  (1853),  we 
are  conscious  of  a  mysterious  element  that  is 
tantalising  in  its  illusiveness.  Self-taught,  Mr. 
Murphy  works  out  the  dominant  note  in  his 
landscapes  through  his  own  inner  vision.  He 
sees  nature  in  the  very  act  of  transformation 
and,  catching  with  his  sensitive  brush  the  filmy 
something  she  uses,  he  paints  pictures  of 
morning  and  evening,  springtime  and  autumn 
that  fill  us  with  questionings.  His  golden  tints, 
suggestive  greens  and  delicious  cream-browns 
elude  analysis.  Truly  "At  Sunset"  (Fig.  89), 
City  Art  Museum,  St.  Louis,  is  a  melody  on 
the  harp.  As  delicate  and  tender  as  the  wind 
sighing  in  the  trees,  it  draws  us  irresistibly, 
for  we  enter  the  very  realm  of  the  artist's  own 
vision.  Never  were  the  lingering  tints  of  sun- 
set or  the  first  gleam  of  the  morning  enveloped 
in  a  more  caressing  atmosphere  than  in  Mr. 
Murphy's  pictures.  His  perception  of  nature 
is  like  that  of  the  lover  for  his  ladylove.  He 
sees  her  as  through  a  veil,  where  the  light  re- 
veals only  to  confuse  the  vision.  We  enjoy 
"At  Sunset"  as  we  enjoy  a  dream.  The  mo- 
ment we  try  to  make  it  real  the  bloom  is  gone. 

In  his  "Woodland  Boundary"  (Fig.  90), 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse,  he  is  just  as 
elusive  as  to  how  he  produces  his  effects. 


Fig.  90 — Woodland  Boiunlary.    Muri)hy.    (^»lll•te^^^  of  the  AIut;eum  of 
P'ine  Arts,  Syracuse. 


Fig.  91 — Summer.    Wiggins.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gallery,  New 
York  City. 


Fig.  92 


! — October  Evening.     Dewey.     Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  129 


Those  gnarled  and  broken  trees,  reinforced  by 
a  tangled  mass  of  undergrowth,  stand  as  de- 
fiant guardians  warning  away  intruders.  The 
piled  logs  and  scattered  chips  mark  their  pow- 
erlessness  against  man's  incessant  war  on 
forests.  That  stretch  of  boggy  land  and 
storm-broken  woodland  is  not  an  attractive 
scene  in  nature,  yet  Mr.  Murphy  has  trans- 
formed it  into  an  exquisite  picture.  See  how 
the  cloud-flecked  sky  smiles  as  it  tenderly 
stoops  to  kiss  the  denuded  soil,  and  how  the 
mellow  light  covers  all  with  a  mantle  of  glad- 
ness. 

A  truly  rural  scene  is  ''Summer — Niantic 
Hills"  (Fig.  91),  Carlton  Wiggins  (1848). 
We  recognise  at  once  that  Mr.  Wiggins  has 
been  with  George  Inness,  but  no  whit  of  his 
individuality  is  lost.  The  wind-swept  hill  loses 
none  of  its  native  charm  under  the  artist's 
strong,  sane  brush.  No  wonder  this  is  a 
favourite  browsing  place,  with  the  wind  sway- 
ing tree  and  bush  and  tall  grass.  What  care 
the  sheep  for  the  fable  of  the  wind  and  the 
sun  if  only  they  argue  their  strength  together 
and  not  give  a  trial  of  their  skill  separately. 
And  what  splendid  sheep  they  are — long  wool, 
I  suspect.  Mr.  Wiggins,  born  at  Turners, 
Orange  County,  New  York,  was  largely 
trained  in  America,  in  the  National  Academy 


130       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

and  under  George  Inness,  though  he  studied  in 
France  for  a  time.  In  his  broad  handHng  of 
landscapes  he  gives  the  sense  of  expansive  hill- 
sides and  wide  fields,  fit  pasture  grounds  for 
his  splendid  sheep  and  cattle. 

Charles  Melville  Dewey  (1849)  is  a  poet 
with  his  brush.  Under  the  influence  of  his 
''October  Evening''  (Fig.  92)  the  twilight 
gathers  around  us  and  we  are  conscious  that 
in  the  little  church, 

*'The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day/' 

and  never  with  a  shyer  grace  has 

"The  moon  pull'd  ofi  her  veil  of  light 
That  hides  her  face  by  day  from  sight." 

The  scene  is  indeed  a  poet's  dream — quiet, 
restful  and  full  of  beauty — but  a  poet  with  a 
true  sense  of  reality.  No  one  could  look  at  that 
little  grove  without  realising  that  the  artist 
knew  the  significance  of  trees.  The  deep  wheel 
tracks  in  the  dirt  road  and  the  overcast  sky 
both  bear  witness  that  the  moisture-ladened 
soil  is  a  direct  consequence  of  a  well-wooded 
country.  And  how  well  balanced  are  the  dark 
mysterious  trees  against  the  luminous  sky.  We 
feel  the  quiet  splendour  of  it  all  and  are  soothed 
and  comforted  that  our  artists  are  recording 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  131 


such  scenes  as  this.  We  need  to  be  reminded 
that  "night  unto  night  sheweth  knowledge" 
if  only  we  would  lift  our  eyes  to  behold  the 
glory  of  the  night  season  in  God's  great  out-of- 
doors.  There  is  a  wholesome  independence 
about  Mr.  Dewey.  Largely  self-taught,  though 
he  spent  some  time  under  the  influence  of  Caro- 
lus  Duran  in  Paris,  he  says  his  say  in  no  un- 
certain tone. 

These  interpreters  of  nature,  who  for  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century  have  been  open- 
ing our  eyes  to  the  wonders  of  the  morning  and 
evening,  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  every 
living  thing,  are  strong,  health-restoring 
physicians.  They  treat  nature  tenderly  and 
lovingly,  with  no  trace  of  sentimentality. 
Individuality  marks  each  man  and  when  once 
the  individual  characteristics  are  known  it  is 
comparatively  easy  to  designate  the  work  of 
each. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


INNESS,  JR.— WALKER— FOSTER— CARLSEN 
—VAN  LEAR  —  LATHROP  —  DAINGER- 
FIELD— CRANE. 

TXTHEN  George  Inness,  Jr.,  began  his  career 
as  an  artist  and  worked  in  his  father's 
studio  in  New  York,  he  very  soon  claimed  rec- 
ognition as  a  painter  of  animals  and  a  painter, 
too,  who  understood  the  spirit  of  the  animals 
he  represented.  Rochester  is  fortunate  in  pos- 
sessing one  of  his  finest  paintings  of  cattle, 
"Bringing  Home  the  Cows"  (Fig.  93).  In  this 
picture  we  feel  his  inherent  love  of  evening 
when  moist  clouds  hang  low  and  a  soft  radi- 
ance fills  the  air.  That  poetic  instinct  for  "all 
phases  of  the  ever-varying  atmosphere — and 
all  phases  of  illumination"  of  the  elder  Inness 
is  the  inheritance  that  has  given  power  to  the 
son.  Mr.  Inness'  warm  sympathy  for  the  life 
of  the  great  out-of-doors  is  that  of  the  men  of 
1830  in  France,  but  with  an  added  note,  aspi- 
ration, to  the  tillers  of  the  soil.  A  stiffness  is 
in  the  backbone  of  the  American  farmer  that 

132 


Fig.  93 — Bringing  Home  the  Cows.   Inness,  Jr.    Courtesy  ol  the  Memo- 
rial Art  Gallery,  Rochester. 


Fig.  94 — Wood  Sawyers.    Walker.    Courtesy  of  the  City  Art  Museum,  St. 

Louis. 


Vio.  95— Summer  Day.     Fo^Ur.     Courtesy  of  the  Alacbeth  Gallery, 
New  \  ork  City. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  133 

lifts  the  head  skyward.  If  he  does  not  reach 
the  goal  himself,  his  children  will.  And  the 
brisk  step  of  the  toiler!  See  how  he  expresses 
the  eager  home-coming  of  man  and  beast  at 
the  end  of  the  day  of  toil.  How  full  of  senti- 
ment is  this  prosaic  scene,  and  why  not? 

Horatio  Walker,  a  Canadian  by  birth 
(185s),  is  nevertheless  an  American  artist. 
He  is  our  Millet  in  painting.  The  workers  of 
the  soil  have  gained  new  beauties  from  his 
brush ;  they  are  not  French  peasants,  but  men 
and  women;  the  new  world  has  opened  wide 
the  doors  of  opportunity  and  a  new  hope  has 
entered  into  their  lives.  Mr.  Walker  always 
preserves  that  sense  of  fitness  in  his  figures 
which  is  the  true  test  of  harmony.  We  feel  in 
the  "Wood  Sawyers"  (Fig.  94),  City  Art  Mu- 
seum, St.  Louis,  the  rhythm  of  well-balanced 
workers,  where  work  is  done  with  the  least  en- 
ergy. The  rapidly  falling  sawdust  shows  no 
hitch  in  the  moving  blade.  Of  course  it  is  a 
homely  scene,  but  full  of  the  feeling  of  home 
comfort.  The  increasing  pile  of  wood  hints 
at  the  comfort  of  a  good  kitchen  fire;  then,  too, 
the  men  work  with  the  steady  purpose  of  those 
having  a  vision  of  home  before  them.  Mr. 
Walker  uses  the  rough  clothes  of  the  sawyers 
and  the  varied  angles  of  the  blocks  of  wood 
as  so  many  radiating  surfaces  for  the  light. 


134       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

The  rich  low  tones  of  his  canvases  are  like  a 
harmony  on  the  bass  notes  of  an  organ. 

George  Inness,  Jr.,  and  Horatio  Walker 
make  their  landscapes  largely  a  setting  for 
animal  life.  In  other  words,  they  picture  the 
close  relationship  that  exists  in  America  be- 
tween the  farmer's  home  and  his  fields  and  his 
livestock.  In  fact  all  our  landscape  artists 
treat  the  farm  as  a  home  centre  by  itself  as 
opposed  to  the  community  centre  with  sur- 
rounding farms  of  the  old  world. 

How  perfectly  Mr.  Ben  Foster  (1852)  has 
brought  this  idea  out  in  his  "Summer  Day'' 
(Fig.  95).  The  home  by  the  roadside  is  the 
heart  of  the  broad  fields  and  dense  wood-land. 
No  one  knows  better  than  Mr.  Foster  how  to 
interpret  the  luxuriance  of  summer  vegetation. 
Even  the  quiet  water  has  the  content  of  well- 
deserved  rest  as  it  laughs  at  the  fleecy  clouds 
stopping  long  enough  to  primp  in  its  surface. 
Yes,  the  heat  of  summer  is  in  the  air,  but  it  is 
the  growing  heat  that  nature  uses  in  preparing 
her  winter  stores. 

Possibly  just  for  bodily  comfort  we  would 
rather  follow  this  tiny  stream  into  the  "Woods 
Interior"  (Fig.  96)  with  Mr.  Carlsen,  but  the 
cosey  farmhouse  and  the  summer  abundance 
linger  with  us  still.  Although  Mr.  Emil  Carl- 
sen  (1853)  is  a  native  of  Copenhagen,  Den- 


Fig.  96 — Woods  Interior.    Carlsen.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gallery, 
New  York  City. 


Fig.  97 — Autumn.    Van  Lear.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gallerj^  New 
York  City. 


Fig.  98 — The  Meadows.     Lathrop.     Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  135 


mark,  he  gives  the  spirit  of  America  in  his 
pictures.  These  tall,  slender  trees  pushing 
their  bare  trunks  skyward  that  their  branches 
and  leaves  may  reach  the  sun  and  air  are  typi- 
cal of  the  second  growth  of  our  temperate 
climate.  See  how  each  tree,  regardless  of  its 
position  on  the  sloping  bank,  has  gained  its 
birthright;  and  how  together  the  tops  of  the 
trees  form  a  broad  level  expanse  to  the  open 
sky. 

Mr.  Carlsen  calls  us  strongly  with  these  sun- 
lit trees  seeking  the  blue  sky.  We  feel  the 
colourfulness  and  scent  the  perfume  of  the 
wood's  interior.  Such  scenes  are  wholesome 
tonics  to  the  heart  and  brain. 

In  Alexander  Van  Lear's  (1857)  "Autumn" 
(Fig.  97)  the  security  of  summer  has  given 
place  to  the  spirit  of  destruction.  The  hustling 
wind  mercilessly  strips  the  trees  bare,  rudely 
shakes  the  feathery  banners  from  the  tall 
grasses  and  scuttles  the  clouds  in  breathless 
haste.  Flowers  and  leaves  and  clouds  are  fly- 
ing hither  and  yon,  but,  oh,  the  riot  of  colour 
that  flaunts  itself  in  the  face  of  the  rushing 
onslaught !  Mr.  Van  Lear  has  caught  the  van- 
dal in  the  very  act  of  destruction.  The  glory 
of  autumn  tints  was  never  more  lovingly 
blended  with  the  living  green  of  summer  than 
in  the  middle  clump  of  trees,  or  more  triumph- 


136       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

antly  flung  to  the  wind  than  in  the  brighter 
trees  at  the  left. 

William  L.  Lathrop  (1859)  certainly  knew 
how  to  make  a  stretch  of  level  country  interest- 
ing when  he  painted  "The  Meadows"  (Fig. 
98),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  One  who 
has  once  seen  the  salt  meadows  of  New  Jersey 
when  the  low  luminous  sky  as  a  great  reflector 
illuminates  marsh  sedges,  juicy  pasture  grasses 
and  pools  of  water,  recognises  that  the  artist  is 
telling  the  truth.  It  matters  not  where  these 
particular  meadows  are,  they  carry  the  im- 
press of  all  dank  lowlands  receding  inland 
into  patches  of  pasturage  with  straggling  trees 
leading  to  firmer  ground. 

As  Mr.  Lathrop  was  born  at  Warren,  in  the 
northern  part  of  Illinois,  he  no  doubt  knew  well 
the  flat  section  around  Lake  Michigan.  But 
whether  painting  marshy  swamps  or  mountain 
highlands,  Mr.  Lathrop  ever  holds  to  a  defi- 
nite portrayal  of  nature  as  he  sees  her.  His 
strong  lines  and  pleasing  colour  give  a  sense  of 
security,  though  at  times  he  loses  something 
of  the  caressing  quality  of  the  atmosphere. 

When  Elliott  Daingerfield  (1859)  stood  on 
top  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  in  North 
Carolina  he  perceived  with  spiritual  eyes  what 
we  simply  see  with  a  natural  vision.  To  record 
a  phenomenon  so  evanescent  as  a  ''Slumbering 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  137 

Fog''  (Fig.  99),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art, 
in  a  mountain  valley  is  to  fix  in  our  minds  a 
wonderful  vision  of  one  of  nature's  condensing 
plants.  Yes,  the  fog  is  asleep;  its  form  rises 
and  falls  regularly  as  in  slumber,  but  it  will 
wake  soon ;  then  great  gaps  will  tear  asunder 
the  huge  mass  until  it  falls  away,  exhausted 
and  spent.  Mr.  Daingerfield  knew  well,  when 
he  brought  the  bear  into  the  foreground,  that 
we  must  be  steadied,  or  the  mere  horror  of 
that  slumbering  monster  would  draw  us  into 
its  depth.  What  a  marvellous  studio  that  was ! 
It  is  given  to  few  artists  to  see  such  a  vision 
and  to  fewer  still  is  given  the  genius  to  record 
it. 

To  describe  autumn  as  Bruce  Crane  (1857) 
pictures  it  is  about  as  impossible  as  implant- 
ing the  song  of  a  lark  into  the  heart  of  one 
who  has  never  heard  it.  He  has  literally  stolen 
the  entire  sodium  line  from  the  spectrum,  the 
thief,  and  has  worked  it  into  his  pigments  until 
his  "Autumn  Uplands"  (Fig.  100),  Metropoli- 
tan Museum  of  Art,  challenges  the  sun  itself 
in  radiance.  And  what  a  luscious  yellow  it  is, 
restrained  yet  overflowing  with  the  joy  of 
fruitage!  The  ripened  grasses  on  the  low  hills 
and  shallow  basins  have  taken  the  mellowed 
hue  of  hammered  gold.   And  the  corded  wood 


138       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

— ^how  quickly  our  minds  fly  to  open  fire  with 
roasting  apples  and  popping  chestnuts ! 

Though  Mr.  Crane  was  born  in  New  York 
City,  he  has  inherited  somewhere  along  the 
line  a  keen  understanding  of  nature.  He  gath- 
ers into  his  autumn  scenes  the  essence  that  un- 
derlies the  coming  of  fall  in  the  cycle  of  the 
year.  We  feel  in  these  pictures  the  influence  of 
something  completed — the  drooping  of  the  full 
ears  of  corn,  the  bending  of  the  wheat  heads  on 
their  slender  stalks.  He  may  not  be  special- 
ising in  a  particular  phase  of  nature,  like  his 
master,  Alexander  Wyant,  yet  his  name  brings 
to  mind  at  once  the  glow  of  the  field  because 
the  harvest  is  come. 


CHAPTER  XV 
DAVIS— RANGER 

A  BOUT  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  Charles 
H.  Davis  (1856)  returned  home  from 
Europe  and  began  studying  our  American 
landscape.  He  has  become  as  familiar  a  figure 
around  the  countryside  of  his  home  at  Mystic, 
Conn.,  as  was  Wordsworth  in  the  Lake  Region, 
England.  With  a  walking-stick  and  a  bit  of 
grass  betwen  his  teeth,  he  may  be  seen  almost 
any  day,  summer  or  winter,  wandering  over 
hill  and  dale,  storing  his  memory  full  of  choice 
spots  where  tree  and  bush  and  meadow  grass 
are  luminous  in  the  light;  where  water  and 
clouds  and  undulating  ground  give  harmony  of 
line  and  where  the  spirit  of  beauty  dwells.  He 
never  makes  a  pencil  sketch  or  note — why 
should  he?  His  whole  being  is  attune  to  the 
harmonies  of  nature.  A  nature  student?  Of 
course  he  is,  and  lives  in  the  country  all  the 
year  around;  in  fact,  Mr.  Davis  has  never 
had  a  city  studio,  but  he  is  not  a  literalist. 
Hear  what  the  artist  has  to  say:    ''When  a 

139 


I40       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

man  has  studied  long  and  earnestly  he  acquires 
some  skill  in  making  things  *like/  but  it's  quite 
another  matter  to  make  them  combine  together 
to  express  one's  thought." 

Then,  speaking  of  his  "cloud''  pictures,  Mr. 
Davis'  words  are:  "I  go  through  positive 
agonies  in  arranging  my  cloud  masses — and 
often  struggle  days  and  weeks  futilely  because 
the  uplift  moving  quality,  which  is  to  me  of 
prime  importance,  will  not  come."  Ruskin 
wrote,  "We  look  too  much  at  the  earth  and 
not  enough  at  the  clouds."  It  took  Mr.  Davis 
in  his  "Clouds"  (Fig.  loi),  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts,  Syracuse,  to  convince  us  that  Ruskin 
was  right,  for  we,  Polonius-like,  simply  shift 
our  point  of  view  to  see  in  the  distorted 
shapes  this  animal  or  that  as  the  mood  is  on 
us.  It  is  not  a  mood  with  Mr.  Davis,  but  a 
clear  vision  that  sees  in  "the  daughter  of  the 
wind  and  water"  pictures  that  delight  our 
eyes  and  gladden  our  hearts. 

The  clouds  to  Mr.  Davis  are  living,  moving 
personalities.  Day  after  day,  from  season  to 
season,  he  watches  them  from  his  studio  win- 
dow as  they  float  in  from  the  Sound  to  pose  for 
him.  Sometimes  his  studio  is  confined  within 
four  walls  and  his  window  is  a  limited  space, 
but  more  often  it  is  the  great  out-of-doors  with 
the  heavens  spread  out  before  him.   Like  the 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  141 

psalmist  of  old,  Mr.  Davis  looks  upon  the  earth 
as  new  every  morning,  and  he  makes  us  feel 
the  freshness  of  the  new  creation  and  awakens 
in  our  hearts  new  hopes  and  greater  aspira- 
tions. His  clouds  lift  us  out  of  the  sordid  and 
place  our  feet  on  firm  ground,  bidding  us  go 
forth  to  labour  with  heads  erect  and  eyes 
steady. 

As  to  the  working  out  of  Mr.  Davis'  compo- 
sitions— all  his  pictures  are  compositions — 
the  artist  remarks,  whimsically: 

*'The  ridiculous  thing  is  that  the  final  results 
may  look  as  if  easily  done.  Just  a  little  clever 
brush-work."  His  pictures  combined  the 
varying  aspects  of  the  scene  under  a  great 
variety  of  wind  and  weather  and  change  of 
seasons.  Take  his  ''Evening''  (Fig.  102), 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  Was  ever  an 
old  oak  and  meadow  brook  fuller  of  lingering 
memories !  The  evening  star  twinkling  in  the 
cloudless  sky  might  have  beckoned  to  the  Wise 
Men  of  old.  Simple  in  detail  and  broad  in 
conception,  this  picture  alone  would  refute  the 
assertion  that  Mr.  Davis  is  a  literalist.  The 
artist's  words  are: 

*'I  do  not  think  that  a  piece  of  nature  in  a 
frame,  though  wonderfully  well  done,  is  very 
desirable  as  a  picture-effect  in  decorative  ar- 
rangement; eloquent  arrangement,  I  may  say. 


142        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

is  to  me  the  first  thing  to  strive  for,  then  suf- 
ficient of  the  intimate  qualities  of  working  out 
that  adds  charm  to  the  work." 

Mr.  Davis,  a  native  of  Amesbury,  Mass., 
even  as  a  Httle  boy  had  an  appreciative  sense 
of  good  art,  and  at  an  early  age  began  his  stud- 
ies in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  He 
then  went  to  Paris  for  a  number  of  years.  His 
life  has  been  full  of  romance  of  that  pure, 
sweet  kind  that  everybody  loves.  The  dear 
little  French  wife,  whom  he  married  in  France, 
died  shortly  after  they  came  to  America  with 
their  two  children  and  were  settled  in  the  new 
home  in  Mystic.  To-day  his  joy  is  in  a  beauti- 
ful, talented  helpmate  who  is  an  artist,  too. 
The  home  at  Mystic  is  one  of  those  hospitable 
places  where  no  trouble  is  too  great  that  gives 
pleasure  to  those  around  them. 

No  wonder  '^The  Time  of  the  Red-winged 
Blackbird"  (Fig.  103),  Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 
Syracuse,  is  one  of  Mr.  Davis'  delightful 
sonnets  on  a  special  phase  of  nature,  spring 
being  the  particular  rule  for  this  sonnet.  The 
red-wing  blackbird !  What  bird-lover  has  not 
watched  him  sitting  quietly  on  the  topmost 
branch  of  some  bare  tree  in  an  inaccessible 
boggy  marsh,  watching  his  mate  nesting?  We 
think  of  him  as  gregarious,  but  not  always  does 
he  love  a  crowd  or  is  he  scraping  an  ac- 


Fig.  103— The  Time  of  the  Red  Winged  Blackbird.  Davis. 
Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse. 


Fig.  104 — On  the  West  Winds.    Davis.   Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


Fig.  105—: 


■North  West  Wind.    Davis.    Courtesy  of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  143 


quaintance.  It  is  Mr.  Davis  and  Emerson  who 
listen  as 

"The  red-wing  flutes  his  'O-ka-lee/' 

How  simply  Mr.  Davis  has  expressed  the 
security  of  the  bird's  chosen  retreat !  The  faint 
wheel-tracks  lead  to  the  stream  and  there  stop. 
Probably  the  little  stream,  swollen  by  the 
spring  rains,  washed  over  the  marsh  and  then 
settled  into  a  deeper  bed,  too  deep  for  a  wagon 
to  cross — we  think  this  might  be  so.  The  red- 
wing knows.  This  bit  of  nature  is  lovely  in 
its  soft  green  garments,  tinged  with  rainbow 
tints  on  underbrush  and  rocky  slope. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Mr.  Davis'  pictures 
are  enshrined  in  a  mysterious  something  that 
is  indefinable.  As  we  look  at  one  of  his  recent 
works,  ''On  the  West  Winds''  (Fig.  104),  we 
are  conscious  that  in  his  communion  with  na- 
ture he  has  fathomed  secrets  that  we  could  not 
have  known  but  for  him.  Shelley  alone  has 
pictured  in  words  the  glory  and  mystery  of 
the  clouds  that  Mr.  Davis  has  pictured  on  can- 
vas. Those  piled  masses  seem  to  exclaim  as 
we  watch  them  sailing  on  the  wind : 

"Sublime  on  the  towers  of  my  sky  bowers 
Lightning,  my  pilot  sits; 

Over  earth  and  ocean,  with  gentle  motion, 
This  pilot  is  guiding  me, 


144        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

And  I  all  the  while  bask  in  heaven's  blue  smile, 
Whilst  he  is  dissolving  in  rains." 

And  in  the  "North  West  Wind''  (Fig.  105), 
The  Art  Institute,  Chicago,  Mr.  Davis  is  par- 
ticularly happy  in  giving  a  sense  of  upv^ard 
sailing  to  the  clouds  which  ''all  the  while  bask 
in  heaven's  blue  smile,"  making  us  glad  in  spite 
of  ourselves.  Caecias  has  no  power  to  quell 
the  wholesome  joy  of  the  fleecy  mass,  blow  as 
furiously  as  he  can,  for  the  clouds,  in  their 
haste,  simply  tumble  over  each  other  with  the 
glee  of  frolicsome  children  playing  in  snow- 
drifts ruthlessly  blown  together. 

The  gladsomeness  of  "Early  Summer"  (Fig. 
106),  Minneapolis  Institute  of  Arts,  is  typical 
of  Mr.  Davis'  joy  in  his  art.  He  paints  for 
the  very  fun  of  painting  and  with  a  boyish  en- 
thusiasm so  genuine  that  he  puts  new  life  into 
us.  Then,  too,  his  point  of  view  for  the  out- 
ward changes  of  nature  is  flexible  and  sym- 
pathetic, yet  he  never  swerves  from  the  defi- 
nite message  he  is  bringing  us.  Landscapes 
and  cloudscapes,  homey  scenes  and  barren 
wastes,  trees  and  running  brooks,  all  come 
from  his  magic  touch  singing  of  the  worth- 
whileness  of  life. 

No  American  artist  is  exerting  a  more 
wholesome  influence  on  the  art  of  the  day 


Fig.  107 — Long  Pond.     Ranger.     Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  Syracuse. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  145 


than  Mr.  Davis.  He  is  ever  alert  to  profit  by 
new  movements  of  broad  scope,  yet  his  sense 
of  proportion  keeps  his  judgment  sane.  That 
he  has  proved  himself  a  just  judge  his  many 
memberships  on  awarding  committees  bear 
testimony.  His  work  is  of  one  who  loves  his 
art;  his  principle  '*to  harmonise  positive 
colours"  to  gain  the  quality  desired  and  ''al- 
ways without  sacrifice  of  strong  blues,  greens 
or  other  colours,"  gives  a  sense  of  truth  and 
sincerity  that  pleases,  but  with  no  hint  of  the 
literalist  to  mar  the  poetry  of  his  pictures. 
That  Mr.  Davis  is  one  of  the  modern  old 
masters  the  masterpieces  from  his  brush  bear 
record. 

Ten  years  ago  an  English  critic  called  a 
group  of  American  landscape-painters  "the 
rising  sun  in  art,"  and  in  the  group  was  Henry 
W.  Ranger  ( 1858-1916).  I  know  you  will  ex- 
claim at  his  'Xong  Pond"  (Fig.  107),  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse,  ''How  much  like 
Corot !"  Yes,  it  is  similar  to  the  great  French 
landscapist,  but  is  it  the  same  ?  It  took  courage 
to  enter  the  path  Corot  trod,  and  only  a  man 
who  knew  his  own  strength  would  have  dared 
do  it.  When  we  stop  to  think,  however, 
why  should  not  other  artists  see  nature  as 
Corot  saw  her?  Mr.  Ranger's  unafraid  frank- 
ness wins  us  at  once.   He  is  not  imitating  an- 


146       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

other,  but  expressing  his  own  personality  some- 
what in  the  same  manner  of  another.  It  is 
Corot-like,  this  'Xong  Pond/'  but  it  is  not 
Corot;  the  trees  are  firmer  and  more  steady, 
the  composition  more  definite,  yet  the  atmos- 
pheric effect  is  just  as  luminous  and  all-em- 
bracing. What  if  it  does  show  the  influence 
of  the  Barbizon  school?  Does  that  make  it  a 
less  original  production  by  Henry  W.  Ranger  ? 
The  controversy  still  rages  that  Shakespeare 
borrowed  his  plots,  but  somehow  Shakespeare 
still  continues  to  be  the  great  Bard  of  Avon, 
and  Ranger,  though  Corot-like,  remains  the 
American  artist,  and  his  landscapes  are  rep- 
resentative of  the  leading  landscapists  of 
America. 

That  Mr.  Ranger  and  Mr.  Davis  were  per- 
sonal friends  is  only  another  instance  of  the 
attraction  of  opposites.  As  this  century 
opened  these  two  artists  found  themselves 
artistic  neighbours,  as  it  were — Mr.  Ranger 
at  Lyme,  Conn.,  and  Mr.  Davis  at  Mystic. 
And  there  began  the  friendly  relationship. 
A  few  years  later  Mr.  Ranger  came  still  nearer 
and  made  his  home  at  Noank,  where,  for  half 
the  year,  the  two  men  were  within  two  miles  or 
so  of  each  other. 

Naturally  their  very  difference  was  an  ele- 
ment of  helpfulness  to  each.  Miss  Davis  laugh- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  147 


ingly  portrays  an  amusing  picture  of  Mr. 
Ranger's  portly  form  close  in  front  of  one  of 
her  father's  canvases  pointing  out  some  par- 
ticular spot  that  pleases  him  well:  ''Yes, 
Charley/'  muses  Mr.  Ranger,  "that  is  just 
right,  just  right and  said  ''Charley,"  a  slight 
man,  tries  in  vain  to  see  the  praised  spot 
around,  above  or  through  the  friendly  critic. 

We  would  characterise  Mr.  Ranger  as  ad- 
hering rather  closely  to  traditions,  even  at 
times  sacrificing  nature's  colours.  Pure  blues 
and  greens  and  others  it  seems  must  go 
if  they  interfere  in  bringing  about  a  certain 
quality.  Sometimes  we  wonder  about  the  last- 
ing quality  of  his  work,  considering  the 
manipulated  brilliancy  of  his  colours  to-day. 
His  glorious  "Highbridge,  New  York,"  Metro- 
politan Museum  of  Art,  sparkles  with  the 
iridescence  of  the  fire-opal.  Incidentally,  this 
picture  has  no  resemblance  to  a  Corot.  That 
Mr.  Ranger's  pictures  have  a  charm  that  is 
most  attractive  no  one  will  question. 

Possibly  none  of  Mr.  Ranger's  pictures  has 
more  of  the  sturdy  qualities  that  mark  him  as 
an  artist  than  his  "Group  of  Sturdy  Oaks" 
(Fig.  108),  Albright  Art  Gallery,  BufTalo. 
The  oak,  the  monarch  of  the  forest,  has 
from  time  immemorial  held  a  peculiar  place 
in  civic  and  religious  ceremonies.   The  Druids 


148       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

venerated  it;  ancient  European  peoples  held 
that  within  its  bark  lived  gnomes  and  fairies ; 
in  Greek  myth  it  is  dedicated  to  the  god  of 
thunder;  to  wear  a  chaplet  of  oak  leaves  was 
a  special  civic  honour  among  the  Romans; 
and  England's  oaks  of  honour  commemorate 
many  events  of  historic  importance.  These 
oaks  of  Mr.  Ranger's  invite  us  to  enjoy  their 
cool  shade,  and  as  we  do  so  let  us  recall  one 
of  the  curious  legends  that  linger  around  these 
noble  trees. 

The  monks  of  Diinwald  near  the  Rhine 
were  rich  and  avaricious.  Near  them  a  young 
nobleman  owned  wide  ancestral  acres  which 
they  determined  to  acquire  by  fair  means  or 
foul.  The  young  nobleman,  knowing  that  his 
inherited  right  was  centuries  old,  was  deter- 
mined to  hold  his  property.  He  tried  the 
judges  but  they  were  too  afraid  of  the  church 
to  give  a  just  decision.  At  last  he  promised 
to  relinquish  his  estate  if  the  monks  would 
grant  him  one  more  season  of  planting  and 
harvesting  his  crops.  This  the  monks  hastened 
to  grant  and  gave  the  young  nobleman  a  legally 
written  contract  signed  and  sealed  by  them. 
They  now  watched  with  great  interest,  and 
considerable  glee,  to  know  what  kind  of  crop 
was  to  be  harvested.  The  seeds  were  sown 
and  the  plants  appeared  when,  to  their  chagrin, 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 
Fig.  109 — Landscape.    Ranger.    Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  149 


they  were  not  wheat  or  oats  but  young  oaks. 
The  monks  were  fairly  outwitted,  for  before 
the  trees  were  grown  to  the  top  of  their 
cloisters  the  monks  were  all  dead ;  the  cloisters 
themselves  crumbled  away  while  the  sturdy 
oaks  still  stood. 

We  feel,  as  we  enjoy  Mr.  Ranger's  oak  trees, 
that  he  has  pictured  Emerson's  trees  spreading 
themselves 

**.  .  .    in  the  air 

As  if  they  loved  the  element  and  hastened 
To  dissipate  their  being  in  it." 

There  is  no  question  about  Mr.  Ranger's 
love  for  trees — and  New  England  trees,  too. 
These  triplets  in  his  'Xandscape"  (Fig.  109), 
Museum  of  Art,  Toledo,  Ohio,  form  splendid 
sentinels  on  the  point  of  land  jutting  into  the 
water.  His  understanding  of  trees  grows 
more  intimate  with  each  study  of  them,  and 
they,  in  turn,  are  claiming  from  him  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  sympathetic  treatment.  This 
could  scarcely  be  otherwise  with  one  who  lives 
with  them  and  loves  them. 

Mr.  Ranger  was  born  in  Western  New  York 
and  lived  part  of  the  year  in  New  York  City. 
He  studied  his  art  outside  of  the  academies 
and  spent  several  years  abroad  in  France,  Eng- 
land and  Holland. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


ABBEY— BLASHFIELD—VOLK 

DRIOR  to  the  World's  Fair  at  Chicago,  in 
1893,  the  American  artists  had  made  com- 
paratively little  progress  in  the  art  of  architec- 
tural decoration.  That  exhibition,  seconded 
by  the  Municipal  Art  Society  of  New  York 
and  other  cities,  brought  about  a  Renaissance 
in  this  branch  of  art  that  already  has  trans- 
formed our  public  buildings,  and  that  may  in 
the  future  make  them  close  rivals  of  those 
grand  old  buildings  of  Venice,  Florence  and 
Rome.  As  soon  as  the  opportunity  arose  there 
were  plenty  of  American  artists  ready  for  the 
work — such  men  as  Blashfield,  Abbey,  Sar- 
gent, Alexander,  and  a  score  of  others.  That 
these  men  understood  mural  decoration  simply 
emphasised  the  fact  of  their  many-sided  pow- 
ers. Architectural  decoration  in  America, 
however,  is  a  study  by  itself. 

Possibly  Edwin  H.  Blashfield  (1848)  is  bet- 
ter known  through  his  mural  decorations,  for, 
without  question,  he  has  attained  a  rare  de- 

150 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  151 


gree  of  excellence  in  this  branch  of  his  art. 
His  mural  paintings  in  the  Congressional  Li- 
brary, in  the  new  Minnesota  Capitol  and  in 
the  Capitol  of  Iowa,  at  Des  Moines,  are  good 
examples  of  the  versatility  of  his  conceptions ; 
and  in  the  latter — 'Westward" — his  handling 
of  sunlight  is  a  stroke  of  genius.  The  long 
red  rays  of  the  setting  sun  illumine  the  whole 
scene  with  a  golden  glow,  as  though  the  artist 
had  caught  some  of  Old  Sol's  rays  and  mixed 
them  with  his  paints.  The  airy  lightness  of 
the  radiant  beings  who  are  the  guides  into  the 
unexplored  West  is  in  fine  contrast  to  the 
sturdy  company  of  pioneers. 

The  combination  of  lightness  and  strength 
that  Mr.  Blashfield  knew  so  well  how  to  man- 
age in  a  composition  is  specially  fine  in  his 
''Uses  of  Wealth"  (Fig.  no),  a  decoration  in 
one  of  the  banking  houses  of  Cleveland,  Ohio. 
With  perfect  ease  he  unites  the  purely  allegori- 
cal with  the  delver  and  artificer,  so  that  one 
supplements  the  other,  making  a  harmonious 
whole. 

Edwin  Austin  Abbey  (1852-1911)  was  born 
in  Philadelphia  and  trained  in  the  Pennsylvania 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  When  only  nineteen 
he  began  his  artistic  career  as  a  magazine  il- 
lustrator. Probably  no  artist  past  or  present 
ever  has  come  so  near  to  the  heart  of  the  read- 


152       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

ing  public  as  has  Abbey.  His  wide  and  com- 
prehensive knowledge  of  legend,  literature,  his- 
tory, and  fiction,  together  with  his  deep  sym- 
pathy in  the  portrayal  of  character  and  stories, 
have  endeared  him  to  all. 

Mr.  Abbey  certainly  has  refuted  over  and 
over  again  the  assertion  that  story-telling  pic- 
tures could  not  be  true  art.  His  pictorial  in- 
terpretations of  the  ^'Holy  Grail"  in  the  Bos- 
ton Library,  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer"  and 
Shakespearian  scenes  have  given  those  master- 
pieces in  ancient  legend  and  literature  a  sig- 
nificance undreamed  of  before.  He  not  only 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  stories  as  their 
authors  represented  them  but,  adding  his 
own  personal  characteristics,  has  given  to  each 
an  originality  that  stamps  them  as  master- 
pieces in  art. 

Of  course  we  are  interested  in  the  story  un- 
derlying Abbey's  portrayal  of  special  scenes, 
yet  that  does  not  detract  from  our  enjoyment 
of  the  picture  itself.  As  we  stand  before  "The 
Penance  of  Eleanor,  Duchess  of  Gloucester" 
(Fig.  Ill),  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh,  we 
feel  the  fascination  of  the  beautiful,  haughty 
woman.  Our  instinctive  sense  of  what  is  due 
womanhood  is  being  outraged.  We  recog- 
nise that  here  is  represented  an  elemental  truth 
in  civilised  life.   Even  the  fact  that  overween- 


Photo  by  the  Enslee  &  Deck  Co.,  New  York. 


Fig.  110 — Uses  of  Wealth.    Blashfield.    Banking  House,  Cleveland. 
Courtesy  of  the  Artist. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  153 


ing  ambition  has  brought  to  pass  this  punish- 
ment does  not  prevent  the  artist  from  centring 
the  charm  of  the  composition  around  the 
Duchess. 

The  story  told  in  Henry  VI,  Act  II,  Scene 
3,  is  in  outline  that  Eleanor  plotted  that  her 
husband,  Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  Pro- 
tector of  the  Kingdom,  should  supplant  his 
nephew,  King  Henry  VI,  and  she  would  step 
from  the  rank  of  second  lady  in  the  realm  to 
that  of  queen.  When  her  schemes  were  dis- 
closed, her  fellow-intriguers  were  put  to  death 
and  she,  said  King  Henry, 

"Shall  after  three  days  open  penance  done, 
Live  in  your  country  here  in  banishment." 

The  painting  represents  the  moment  of 
Eleanor's  speech  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
who,  dressed  in  mourning,  listens  with  bowed 
head. 

"Ah,  Gloster ;  teach  me  to  forget  myself ! 
For  whilst  I  think  I  am  thy  married  wife 
And  thou  a  prince,  protector  of  this  land, 
Methinks  I  should  not  thus  be  led  along, 
Mail'd  up  in  shame,  with  papers  on  my  back 
And  follow'd  with  a  rabble,  that  rejoice 
To  see  my  tears,  and  hear  my  deep-felt  groans. 
The  ruthless  flint  doth  cut  my  tender  feet; 
And  when  I  start  the  envious  people  laugh, 
And  bid  me  be  advised  how  I  tread." 


154       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

In  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  is  a 
gorgeous  ^'Scene  from  King  Lear''  (Fig.  112), 
by  Mr.  Abbey.  Cordelia  in  this  picture  is  one 
of  those  marvellous  creations  of  the  human 
brain  that  exists  as  a  real  person  to  us.  Ab- 
bey has  painted  a  portrait  of  Shakespeare's 
Cordelia — and  Cordelia  lives,  as  do  Jeannie 
Dean,  Dinah  Morris,  Uriah  Heep,  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  and  scores  of  others.  They  are  indi- 
viduals whose  influence  lives  on  through  all 
time.  What  a  splendid  Cordelia  she  is !  How 
noble  and  dignified  and  true  and  womanly. 
Our  hearts  burn  with  indignation  against  the 
jeering,  flippant,  untrue  sisters  who  in  their 
very  attitudes  of  scorn  show  their  unworthi- 
ness  as  daughters. 

You  will  recall  the  scene — King  Lear  has 
decided  to  divide  his  kingdom  in  three  parts, 
each  daughter  a  part.  He  asks,  in  turn, 
'Which  of  you,  shall  we  say,  doth  love  us 
most? — Goneril,  our  eldest  born,  speak  first." 
And  then  "what  say  our  second  daughter,  our 
dearest  Regan,  wife  of  Cornwall?  Speak." 
Both  daughters  speak  honeyed  words  from 
false  hearts.  And  when  he  asks  Cordelia  he 
fails  to  understand  that  in  her  answer  speaks 
the  true  daughter.  Abbey  has  chosen  the  mo- 
ment when  the  poor,  deluded,  broken-hearted 
old  king,  having  severed  all  ties  with  his  young- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  rss 


est,  his  best  beloved  daughter,  leaves  the  room. 
Cordelia  turns  to  her  sisters  and  gives  those 
memorable  words  of  reproof : 

*'Ye  jewels  of  our  father,  with  washed  eyes 
Cordelia  leaves  you :  I  know  you  what  you  are ; 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loath  to  call 
Your  faults  as  they  are  nam'd.  Love  well  our  father : 
To  your  professed  bosoms  I  commit  him: 
But  yet,  alas,  stood  I  within  his  grace, 
I  would  prefer  him  to  a  better  place. 
So,  farewell  to  you  both." 

The  decorative  quality  of  this  painting  is 
superb,  and  in  the  delineation  of  character  Ab- 
bey has  rarely  equalled  the  figures  of  Cordelia 
and  King  Lear.  Was  anything  ever  more  ex- 
pressive of  crushed  love  and  hopes  than  the 
bent  old  man  feebly  leaving  the  room  in  a  state 
of  collapse  after  his  denunciation  of  Cordelia? 
The  picture  of  the  dog  is  a  bit  of  genre  paint- 
ing of  rare  excellence. 

Some  men  and  some  portraits  are  epoch- 
making.  And  if  the  man  and  the  portrait  are 
one  and  the  same  the  world  delights  to  give 
homage.  When  the  ''Portrait  of  Felix  Adler" 
(Fig.  113),  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  • 
occupied  the  place  of  honour  at  the  National 
Academy  of  Design,  New  York  City,  in  191 5, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  visiting  public  verified 


156       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

the  genius  of  the  artist,  Douglas  Volk  (1856). 
The  personality  of  the  founder  of  the  Society 
of  Ethical  Culture  pervaded  the  gallery.  That 
portrait  compelled  attention,  just  as  the  man, 
Felix  Adler,  compels  his  audiences  to  listen. 
Mr.  Volk,  grasping  the  salient  qualities  that 
mark  the  lecturer,  has  made  us  feel  the  power 
of  the  man.  The  kindly  eyes  and  genial  mouth 
bespeak  human  sympathy,  yet  in  them  lurk  the 
power  of  righteous  scorn  against  injustice. 
Almost  under  our  gaze  the  expression  changes 
and  we  wonder  what  great  problem  is  working 
to  solution  in  the  massive  brain.  Already  this 
portrait  and  this  man  belong  to  the  ages. 


Fig.   113— Portrait  of  Felix  Adler.     Volk.     Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan 

Museum  of  Art. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


SARGENT 

JOHN  SINGER  SARGENT  (1856)  is  an 
^  artist  who  cannot  be  limited  to  any  country 
or  any  time.  We  are  proud  to  claim  him  as  an 
American,  but  we  are  still  prouder  to  recognise 
that  he  is  one  of  the  great  portrait  painters 
of  the  world.  Besides  being  endowed  as  he  is 
by  nature  with  almost  every  gift  that  makes  a 
perfect  technician,  he  has  that  varied  gift, 
genius,  which  stamps  his  work  as  coming  from 
a  master's  brush.  Mr.  Sargent  was  born  in 
Florence  into  a  home  of  culture  and  refinement. 
What  more  could  a  talented  child  have  had  to 
perfect  him  than  he  had  in  that  home  and  in 
that  art  centre  of  the  world?  When  at  eight- 
een he  entered  Carolus  Duran's  studio  in  Paris 
he  took  with  him  the  American  temperament, 
so  quick  and  susceptible  to  impressions,  united 
with  an  appreciation  of  the  truly  beautiful  in 
art  absorbed  from  the  grand  old  masters  of 
the  past.  After  his  studies  in  Paris  he  went  to 
Spain,  where,  in  the  works  of  the  great  Span- 

157 


158       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

ish  painter,  Velasquez,  he  found  that  perfection 
in  simplicity  of  handling,  in  the  relationship 
between  colour  and  light,  in  surrounding  every 
object  with  atmosphere,  and  in  freedom  from 
all  mannerism  which  supplied  the  very  re- 
quisites most  needed  in  forming  his  own 
methods — and  Mr.  Sargent's  methods  are  de- 
cidedly his  own. 

Certainly  "arrested  action'*  was  never  a 
truer  description  of  any  portrait  of  Mr.  Sar- 
gent's than  in  that  of  the  ''Misses  Boit"  (Fig. 
114),  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.  The 
children  have  stopped  just  for  a  moment  to 
watch  the  artist  paint;  he  ''dashes  it  right  off 
carelessly"  but  with  a  rapidity  of  skill  that  is 
directed  by  an  acutely  trained  mind.  An  Eng- 
lishman once  said  of  Sargent,  "As  the  Ameri- 
cans say,  he  works  like  a  steam  engine."  Sar- 
gent's concentration  of  mind  is  such  that  when 
a  line  is  once  drawn  it  remains — he  does  noth- 
ing in  a  hurry. 

The  decorative  quality  of  the  picture  of  the 
Boit  children  is  like  that  of  any  harmoniously 
furnished  room  after  four  little  girls  have  en- 
tered and  given  the  warmth  of  childhood  to 
the  furniture.  These  little  girls  are  darlings ; 
but  all  children  are  darlings  when  their  lives 
are  regulated  by  the  taste  and  skill  of  thinking 
parents.    Taste  and  skill — yes,  those  are  the 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  159 


qualities  that  Mr.  Sargent  puts  into  his  pic- 
tures. Nothing  is  done  in  a  haphazard  man- 
ner, but  the  beauty  of  it  all  is  that  no  trace  of 
the  manner  of  doing  is  felt  in  the  result.  Each 
little  girl  has  a  definite  personality,  yet  who  can 
fathom  the  method  by  which  the  artist  has 
brought  out  that  personality?  We  only  know 
that  what  he  has  done  'lives  and  breathes  and 
moves  and  quivers." 

Mr.  Sargent's  portraits  are  not  simply  per- 
sonal character  sketches ;  his  habit  seems  to  be 
to  study  the  character  of  humanity  en  masse, 
and  then  the  individual  is  treated  more  as  a 
type  in  which  a  certain  temperament  is  empha- 
sised. Perhaps  this  is  best  illustrated  in  his 
portraits  representing  public  characters,  as 
Coventry  Patmore,  the  poet,  and  again  in 
"Carmencita''  (Fig.  115),  the  Spanish  ballet- 
dancer.  It  is  not  alone  this  particular  dancing 
girl,  as  she  appeared  before  the  Paris  students 
in  all  her  insolent  beauty  and  charming  grace, 
that  Mr.  Sargent  was  representing,  but  the 
acme  of  the  dancer's  art.  As  we  stand  before 
this  painting  in  the  Luxembourg,  Paris,  the 
sparkle  and  glitter  of  the  deliciously  coloured 
gown  fairly  takes  our  breath.  We  feel  that  we 
have  come  suddenly  before  a  brilliantly  lighted 
stage. 

Mr.  Chase  has  a  picture  of  ''Carmencita" 


i6o        AMERICAN  PICTURES 


in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  of  which 
Sargent  miglit  say,  as  did  Michael  Angelo 
when  he  saw  Raphael's  ''Sybil,"  "He  has 
walked  through  my  chapel!''  Alike,  and  yet 
how  different!  Both  are  marvels  of  the  paint- 
er's art. 

When  Mr.  Sargent  painted  the  "Portrait  of 
James  Whitcomb  Riley"  (Fig.  1 16) ,  John  Her- 
ron  Art  Institute,  Indianapolis,  he  gave  a 
masterpiece  of  rare  value,  portraying  Indi- 
ana's most  distinguished  son.  It  is  easy  to 
grasp,  from  Mr.  Sargent's  likeness  of  him, 
the  genuine  quality  in  Mr.  Riley  that  has 
made  his  dialect  writing  a  success. 

When  Mr.  Riley  chose  Benjamin  E.  Johnson 
as  a  sobriquet  he  created  a  real  character.  An 
aged,  uneducated  rustic  was  Johnson,  who  said 
to  himself,  in  his  own  words:  "From  child- 
hood up  tel  old  enough  to  vote,  I  alius  wrote 
more  or  less  poetry,  as  many  an  album  in  the 
neighbourhood  can  testify  .  .  .  from  the  hart 
out."  The  public  at  once  recognised  the  ring 
of  truth  in  the  "Old  Swimmin'  Hole"  and 
scores  of  other  poems.  Mr.  Riley  began  to  ab- 
sorb the  characteristics  of  the  "hoosier" — per- 
haps derived  from  "Who's  yere?" — when  a 
mere  child.  He  was  the  constant  companion 
of  his  father,  an  attorney-at-law,  and  on  court 
days  in  some  obscure  corner  of  the  courtroom 


Fig.  117 — Ellen  Terry  as  Lady  Macbeth. 
Sargent.    Tate  Gallery,  London. 


Fig.  118 — Carnation  Lily,  Lily  Rose.    Sargent.    Albert  Victoria 
Museum.  London. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  i6i 


he  was  unconsciously  preparing  for  his  fu- 
ture career.  Several  of  his  earlier  years  were 
spent  wandering  over  the  country  decorating 
the  fences  and  roadsides  with  business  signs 
to  please  the  people  and  entice  their  trade.  At 
one  time  he  even  had  yearnings  toward  por- 
trait painting,  but  signs  brought  larger  re- 
turns for  his  time. 

With  such  a  man  as  James  Whitcorab  Riley 
for  a  subject,  Mr.  Sargent  must  have  felt  the 
tingle  of  a  war-horse  on  his  mettle.  And  the 
portrait  is  proof  that  he  recognised  the  subtle 
traits  of  the  man  who  is  known  as  the  *'Burns 
of  America."  The  portrait  is  true  to  the  man 
— ^humorous  yet  ever  kindly,  witty  with  no 
sting,  seeing  weakness  but  with  the  sympathy 
of  a  true  friend,  quick  to  scent  the  absurd 
but  quicker  to  heal  the  hurt — such  is  a  true  pic- 
ture of  James  Whitcomb  Riley  (1853-1916). 

Mr.  Sargent  is  perfectly  at  home  in  portray- 
ing the  tragedy  queen,  as  his  painting  of  ''Ellen 
Terry  as  Lady  Macbeth"  (Fig.  117)  testifies. 
One  critic  writes:  ''Sargent's  picture  of  her 
(Ellen  Terry)  will  stand  out  among  pictures 
of  distinguished  women  as  one  who  bears  no 
resemblance  to  anybody  else."  It  would  hardly 
be  possible  to  conceive  of  a  more  subtle  union 
of  characters  into  a  perfect  being  than  is  por- 
trayed in  his  Lady  Macbeth.    It  is  Shake- 


i62        AMERICAN  PICTURES 


speare's  Lady  Macbeth,  and  yet  it  is  Ellen 
Terry  who  has  made  her  alive.  It  is  Ellen 
Terry's  Lady  Macbeth,  and  yet  it  is  Mr.  Sar- 
gent who  has  caught  her  on  canvas  in  his  own 
original  way  without  detracting  in  the  small- 
est measure  from  her  originality.  The  three 
characters  are  perfectly  distinct,  yet  perfectly 
blended.  This  portrait  of  ^'Ellen  Terry  as 
Lady  Macbeth"  is  in  the  Tate  Gallery,  London. 

In  Mr.  Sargent's  ^'Carnation  Lily,  Lily 
Rose"  (Fig.  ii8),  in  Victoria  and  Albert  Mu- 
seum, London,  we  feel  that  rare  sympathy 
where  every  brush-stroke  is  a  token  of  love. 
And  we  know  at  once  that  the  friendship  be- 
tween the  artist  and  these  little  girls  is  a  very 
close  one.  The  scene  represents  an  English 
garden  just  at  twilight.  The  two  little  girls, 
standing  in  a  thicket  of  green  leaves  and 
bright  flowers,  are  lighting  Japanese  lanterns. 
The  reddish  rays  from  the  candles  gleam  and 
tremble  on  the  foliage  and  the  simple  dresses 
of  the  little  lamp-lighters.  Nothing  could  be 
simpler  or  more  sincere  than  these  dainty 
misses  intent  on  the  task  before  them.  As  a 
piece  of  decoration  this  picture  is  simply  su- 
perb. It  is  an  exquisite  bit  of  nature  softened 
by  the  evening  shade  and  made  permanent  on 
canvas  by  a  true  artist. 

Nearly  a  decade  ago  it  was  rumoured  in  Lon- 


Fig.  119 — Tyrolese  Interior.    Sargent.    Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum 

of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  163 


don  that  Mr.  Sargent  was  tired  of  painting 
portraits,  which  meant  simply  that  this  artist 
would  paint  something  else  with  equal  skill.  It 
also  meant  that  in  turning  from  the  incessant 
demands  of  sitters  in  high  places,  Mr.  Sargent 
could  paint  his  marvellous  landscapes  and 
mountain  regions  where  the  working  people 
and  the  Tyrolese  peasants  are  his  sitters. 
These  scenes  are  no  less  portraits  because  they 
are  pictures. 

In  the  ''Tyrolese  Interior"  (Fig.  119),  Met- 
ropolitan Museum  of  Art,  the  group  around 
the  table  is  just  as  individual  in  characterisa- 
tion as  is  the  Boit  group  of  children.  Deffra- 
ger,  the  German  artist,  has  devoted  much  of 
his  work  to  the  Tyrolese  peasants,  yet  in  none 
of  his  pictures  is  the  religious  spirit  of  the 
mountaineers  so  impelling  as  in  this  one.  So 
fervent  is  the  spirit  of  religious  fervour  that 
each  meal  is  eaten  with  the  crucified  Christ 
looking  down  in  blessing.  Even  the  light  is  a 
benediction  under  Mr.  Sargent's  illuminating 
brush.  The  warmth  of  a  holy  communion  is 
in  this  home,  rough  as  the  exterior  seems. 
Such  a  picture  breathes  pure  religion  in  the 
very  joy  of  colour  and  light  and  breadth  of 
handling  under  a  master's  touch. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


ALEXANDER— BLUM 

QNE  of  John  White  Alexander's  (1856- 
191 5)  most  exquisite  harmonies  in  colour 
and  feeling  is  "Isabella  and  the  Pot  of  Basil" 
(Fig.  120),  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 
The  long  lines  of  the  soft  greyish-green  filmy 
robe,  the  graceful  curve  of  the  lovely  arm  and 
the  pathos  of  the  sad,  pale  face  make  a  picture 
to  be  remembered.  We  love  it  as  a  work  of 
art  and  also  because  it  brings  to  mind  that 
pitiful  story  as  told  in  Keats'  poem  of  "Isabel.'' 
Isabella  v^as  a  beautiful  Florentine  maiden 
living  with  her  two  brothers.  They  had 
planned  to  marry  her  "to  some  high  noble  and 
his  olive  trees."  They  found,  however,  that 
one  Lorenzo,  their  servant,  had  dared  to  love 
her  and  that  she,  "Fair  Isabel,  poor  simple  Isa- 
bel !"  returned  his  love.  It  was  nothing  to  the 
brothers  that  these  two  loved  each  other. 
Lorenzo  must  die.  They  beguiled  him  out  of 
Florence  beyond  the  Arno  to  a  forest  where 
they  slew  him  and  buried  him.  They  told  their 

164 


Fig.  120 — Isabella  and  the  Pot  of  Basil.  Alexander. 
>  Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  165 

sister  that  Lorenzo  had  been  sent  in  haste  to 
foreign  lands.  She  waited  until  her  heart 
grew  sick,  but  no  Lorenzo  came.  At  last,  in  a 
vision  of  the  night,  Lorenzo  stood  by  her  bed- 
side. He  told  her  of  his  murder  and  just  how 
to  find  his  grave.  In  the  morning,  with  an 
aged  nurse,  she  followed  her  lover's  descrip- 
tion until  she  came  to  the  large  flint  stone,  the 
whortleberries,  the  beeches,  and  the  chestnuts 
and  under  the  fresh  mound  she  found  her 
lover.  She  took  the  precious  head  and  kissed 
it. 

"Then  in  a  silken  scarf 
She  wrapped  it  up ;  and  for  its  tomb  did  choose 
A  garden-pot,  wherein  she  laid  it  by, 
And  covered  it  with  mould,  and  o'er  set 
Sweet  Basil,  which  her  tears  kept  wet." 

Her  brothers,  wondering  why  she  always 
sat  by  her  pot  of  Basil,  stole  it,  and  when  they 
found  Lorenzo's  head,  they  fled  from  Florence. 
Isabella  pined  and  died  with  the  pitiful  wail  on 
her  dying  lips, 

*'0  cruelty,  to  steal  my  Basil-pot  away  from  me." 

As  we  stand  before  ''The  Ring"  (Fig.  121), 
in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  we  feel 
like  saying  of  Mr.  Alexander  as  did  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  of  his  rival,  Gainsborough,  "I  can- 


i66       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


not  think  how  he  produces  his  effects."  There 
is  something  impalpable  about  this  picture, 
something  that  baffles  explanation.  Exqui- 
sitely beautiful,  it  satisfies  because  it  gives  the 
feeling  of  simplicity — no  overcrowding  and 
nothing  uninteresting  to  mar  the  joy  of  the 
picture.  Mr.  Alexander  is  originality  itself 
in  his  arrangement.  His  poses  are  perfectly 
natural  to  each  individual  represented,  yet  the 
moment  any  one  in  real  life  uses  them  nat- 
urally, that  person  is  accused  of  being  Alex- 
andrian in  manner.  It  is  interesting  to  ex- 
amine Mr.  Alexander's  coarse  canvas  and  see 
how  the  unglazed  surface  responds  to  his  vary- 
ing brush  strokes,  thus  adding  interest  to  the 
work.  His  pictures  are  individually  his,  re- 
gardless of  any  influence  from  Germany,  Italy 
or  France.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for 
one  so  filled  with  the  artistic  instinct,  as  was 
Mr.  Alexander,  not  to  have  given  to  the  world 
an  art  peculiar  to  himself. 

Mr.  Alexander,  a  native  of  Allegheny,  Pa., 
and  an  orphan  at  five  years  of  age,  was 
brought  up  by  his  maternal  grandparents. 
When  scarcely  in  his  teens  he  found  school 
work  very  irksome,  so  at  an  early  age  went  to 
New  York  City,  where  he  acquired  consider- 
able fame  as  an  illustrator.  He  then  made  the 
usual  tour  of  inspection  of  the  European  art 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  167 


centres,  until  he  finally  settled  in  Paris  for  an 
extended  stay.  His  exhibitions  in  the  Champ 
de  Mars  took  the  French  people  by  storm. 
While  for  many  years  he  continued  to  spend 
half  of  each  year  in  Paris,  he  never  lost  that 
peculiar  charm  that  belongs  to  a  true  Ameri- 
can. 

In  Mr.  Alexander's  portraits  we  find  a  com- 
bination of  the  purely  decorative  with  the  per- 
sonality of  the  sitter;  the  latter  is  revealed 
through  the  expression  of  the  face  and  figure. 
He  is  most  original  in  the  extraordinary  effects 
of  colour  he  secures  with  a  limited  use  of  pig- 
ments, and  in  the  marvellous  likenesses  he 
evolves  through  peculiar  poses,  marking  spe- 
cial moods  of  the  individual  sitter. 

"Walt  Whitman,"  by  John  W.  Alexander 
(Fig.  122),  dominates  the  room.  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art.  Possibly  because  Whitman 
was  our  most  typical  American  poet  we  thus 
feel  his  presence,  but  more  probably  because 
Mr.  Alexander  has  preserved  his  own  nation- 
ality in  representing  this  true  American  man 
of  fourscore  years.  Just  such  typical  pictures 
as  this,  and  scores  of  others  by  our  own  men, 
show  our  nationality  and  give  us  an  American 
art.  Foreign  influences  may  guide  but  they 
do  not  obliterate  our  inheritance. 

Can  you  not  hear  this  brave  old  poet  repeat 


i68       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


that  heart-rending  tribute  to  our  martyred 
hero : — 

Captain!  my  Captain!  our  fearful  trip  is  done; 
The  ship  has  weathered  every  rock,  the  prize  we 
sought  is  won. 

But  O  heart!  heart!  heart! 
Leave  you  not  the  little  spot. 
Where  on  the  deck  my  captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead." 

And  now  in  this  magnificent  portrait  of  "Au- 
guste  Rodin"  (Fig.  123),  Cincinnati  Museum, 
we  see  the  artist's  mastery  of  French  traits. 
It  is  a  master-portrait  of  a  master-sculptor. 
Was  ever  anything  more  original  than  that 
pose  ?  A  thinker  has  stopped  as  he  crosses  the 
room,  for  a  special  thought  has  come  and  he 
must  examine  more  carefully  the  bit  of  work 
he  has  in  his  hand.  Almost  can  we  fathom  the 
intent  of  that  master  mind,  but  not  quite,  for 
he  is  too  deep  for  the  most  of  us.  Very  few, 
indeed,  are  the  pigments  that  Mr.  Alexander 
uses,  but  with  those  few  he  obtains  results 
that  are  simply  marvellous.  Original,  individ- 
ual and  distinguished  are  the  attributes  of  Mr. 
Alexander  and  his  work. 

To  have  a  portrait  of  ''Robert  Blum"  (Fig. 
124),  and  by  Alexander,  too,  is  a  mark  of 
special  good  fortune,  the  Cincinnati  Museum. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  169 


As  we  look  in  his  face,  it  is  easy  to  understand 
why  this  man  could  remain  himself  in  his  work, 
and  still  gather  inspiration  from  his  associates 
and  strength  from  the  old  masters.  Those 
clear  dark  eyes  are  seeking  for  truth,  but  their 
steady  depths  index  a  mind  that  is  reasoning 
and  analysing  and  absorbing.  Then,  too,  there 
is  a  genial  quality  shining  out  at  us  that  ac- 
cords well  with  the  easy  and,  without  doubt, 
natural  attitude  he  has  taken  to  converse  with 
a  friend.  And  that  Mr.  Alexander  knew  Rob- 
ert Blum  intimately  we  have  a  right  to  assume 
from  the  warmth  of  personality  of  this  por- 
trait. 

Quite  naturally  we  turn  next  to  the  works 
of  a  native  of  Cincinnati,  Robert  Frederick 
Blum  (1857-1903).  After  his  death  in  1903, 
his  sister  Mrs.  Haller  assisted  in  collecting  a 
large  number  of  his  paintings  and  studies  for 
the  museum.  The  addition  of  these  represen- 
tative works  by  Blum  was  an  acquisition  of 
immense  value  to  the  students  and  lovers  of 
art.  Mr.  Blum  was  less  than  twenty  when  he 
settled  in  New  York  City,  and  almost  imme- 
diately success  came  to  him.  He  was  a  man  of 
keen  perceptive  powers,  alive  to  the  merits  of 
others,  ready  to  be  influenced,  but  never  domi- 
nated by  the  genius  of  other  artists.  He  made 
many  journeys  to  Europe  and  one  to  Japan. 


I70       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

The  results  of  these  visits  are  seen  in  the  sub- 
jects of  his  paintings,  but  not  unduly  in  his 
manner  of  work. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  of  his  pictures  is 
the  ''Venetian  Lace  Makers''  (Fig.  125).  So 
true  to  life  is  this  group  of  young  women  gos- 
siping over  their  pillows,  as  their  deft  fingers 
manipulate  the  thread  and  pins,  that  we 
scarcely  believe  it  is  only  a  picture  before  us. 
How  many  times  have  we  stood  in  the  door- 
way of  some  lace  room  back  of  San  Marco, 
Venice,  and  watched  just  such  a  scene  as  this. 
See  the  sun  stealing  in  through  the  cracks  in 
the  Venetian  blind  and  boldly  pouring  through 
the  open  door  and  window.  And  how  it  brings 
out  the  eagerness  of  the  faces  and  plays  with 
the  hair  and  sparkles  on  the  beads  and  makes 
each  dress  and  apron  and  basket  like  an  illu- 
sive elf  of  first  one  tint  then  another.  Firmly 
and  delicately  the  artist  has  placed  the  scene 
before  us  with  no  superfluous  details;  simply 
and  clearly  the  story,  if  we  may  call  it  a  story, 
of  the  Venetian  lace-maker  is  made  a  reality 
to  us. 

Mr.  Blum's  studies  of  Japan  were  really  the 
first  to  introduce  the  American  people  to  the 
charm  of  that  land  of  the  cherry  blossom  and 
chrysanthemum. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


TEN  AMERICAN  PAINTERS 
HASSAM— WEIR— DEWING— Decamp 

^T^  EN  American  Painters  separated  them- 
selves  from  the  National  Academy  in 
1868  and  began  an  unusual  existence — if  we 
may  express  it  so — by  exhibiting  their  paint- 
ings at  the  gallery  of  Durand  Ruel,  New  York 
City.  A  few  years  later,  through  the  kindness 
of  Mr.  Montross,  they  continued  to  exhibit  at 
the  Montross  Gallery,  New  York  City,  for  sev- 
eral years.  Now,  however,  most  of  the  men 
are  again  members  of  the  National  Academy 
and  exhibit  there,  too. 

The  original  men  who  formed  this  unique 
group  were:  Childe  Hassam,  J.  Alden  Weir, 
Thomas  W.  Dewing,  Joseph  DeCamp,  John  H. 
Twachtman,  Frank  W.  Benson,  Edmund  M. 
Tarbell,  Robert  Reid,  Willard  L.  Me  teal  f,  and 
Edward  E.  Simmons.  In  exhibiting  together 
these  artists  were  forming  no  organization 
with  rules  and  regulations  and  governing  mem- 

171 


172       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

bers — rather  the  contrary.  They  repudiated 
all  suggestions  of  following  special  tendencies 
in  the  selection  of  works — perish  the  thought ! 
They  have  emphatically  refused  the  article 
"The''  in  designating  the  group,  and  have  sim- 
ply continued  to  exhibit  together  these  nearly 
twenty  years  as  friends  and  lovers  of  independ- 
ent work  founded  on  truth.  In  writing  about 
these  men,  "Ten  American  Painters''  makes 
a  convenient  chapter  heading  and  possibly  the 
public  is  remembering  them  better  under  this 
title.  After  Mr.  Twachtman  died  in  1902  Mr. 
Chase  was  elected  to  take  his  place. 

We  recognise  that  it  takes  a  peculiar  kind  of 
wisdom  to  strike  into  hitherto  untrodden  paths 
and  wander  far  afield  without  losing  the 
fundamentals  of  the  old  ways.  Ten  American 
Painters  and  a  few  others  have  that  wisdom 
and,  while  some  have  fallen  by  the  way,  they 
are  still  binding  the  old  and  the  new  into  an 
art  that  prophesies  much  for  America. 

Mr.  Childe  Hassam  was  born  in  Boston  in 
1859.  From  1889,  when  he  was  awarded  the 
bronze  medal  at  the  Paris  Exposition,  until 
the  present  time  his  art  has  received  nearly  a 
score  of  medals  and  prizes  as  tokens  of  appro- 
bation from  the  critics  of  Europe  and  America. 
Probably  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hassam  is  not  only 
a  genius  but  a  thoroughly  trained  craftsman 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Covvright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

Fig.  120 — The  New  York  Window.     Hassam.     Courtesy  of  the  Corcoran 
Gallery  of  Art,  Washington. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  173 

is  the  secret  of  his  success.  No  artist  stands 
out  more  prominently  among  the  Independents 
of  the  so-called  Impressionist  school  than 
Mr.  Hassam.  His  personality  is  behind  the 
modus  operandi  of  all  his  pictures. 

The  "New  York  Window'^  (Fig.  126),  Cor- 
coran Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  D.  C,  is 
one  of  a  number  of  similar  paintings  in  which 
the  artist  doubtless  is  dealing  primarily  with 
light  and  its  effect  on  the  various  objects,  but 
personally  we  cannot  look  at  the  young  woman 
as  simply  an  object.  She  is  far  too  individual 
for  that.  To  one  at  all  familiar  with  New 
York  City  houses  and  their  high  narrow-paned 
windows  that  catch  the  full  light  of  the  sky, 
this  picture  will  touch  a  responsive  chord. 
Only  an  artist  with  the  sensitive  appreciation 
of  the  effect  of  light  that  Mr.  Hassam  has 
could  have  originated  these  unique  pictures. 
Who  has  used  this  theme  in  like  manner — 
given  a  girl,  a  dish  of  fruit  or  spring  blossoms, 
a  round  table,  a  city  window  and  light  and 
colour?  One  American  critic  says  of  Mr.  Has- 
sam's  daring  methods  and  originality:  "I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  the  amazing  satisfac- 
tion of  his  art  can  best  be  explained  by  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  accentuation,  the  perfection  of 
his  emphasis  in  colour.  That  he  is  a  master  of 
colour  we  frankly  admit,  though  at  times  we 


174       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

are  stupefied  and  turn  away  feeling  that  he  is 
beyond  us.  Not  so  with  this  lovely  picture. 
The  New  York  window  has  taken  on  a  new 
character  since  Hassam  has  shown  it  to  us." 

''Spring  Morning''  (Fig.  127),  Carnegie  In- 
stitute, Pittsburgh,  is  a  picture  that  is 
tantalising  in  its  hint  of  the  rebirth  of  ani- 
mate things.  The  thoughts  that  are  stirring 
in  the  young  woman — or  is  it  in  our  own  mind  ? 
— are  fraught  with  intense  feeling.  Not  even 
the  birds  skimming  across  the  screen  are  more 
intent.  A  dreamer  is  she?  yes,  but  a  spring 
dreamer  where  all  is  possibility.  Light  and  air 
caress  the  canvas  until  colour  and  form  have 
become  component  parts  with  them  and  the 
whole  picture  sings  in  harmony,  but  without 
loss  of  solidity,  the  quality  that  the  later  in- 
dependents are  gaining. 

If  Mr.  Hassam  meant  to  convince  the  world 
that  shades  in  colour  exist  which  only  the  art- 
ist, with  his  trained  eye,  can  reveal,  he  has 
proved  his  point,  just  as  he  has  convinced  the 
world  in  every  new  theory  he  has  advanced. 
We  have  followed  him  with  delight  as  he  pic- 
tured the  "New  York  Window"  and  "Spring 
Morning,"  and  now  in  "The  Church  at  Old 
Lyme"  (Fig.  128),  Albright  Art  Gallery,  Buf- 
falo, gives  us  another  phase  of  his  art.  Inter- 
esting? of  course  it  is.    That  church  is  so 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  175 


typically  New  England;  its  tall  spire,  Ionic 
columns  and  plain  whiteness  are  much  like 
many  a  historic  American  church  that  to-day 
is  being  repaired  and  reclaimed  as  belonging 
to  Colonial  days.  How  we  are  fostering 
the  old  to  gain  a  past  for  ourselves!  But 
this  church  at  Old  Lyme  may  or  may  not  be 
ancient.  The  trees  that  shelter  it  so  lovingly 
are  mere  striplings,  but  no  carved  choir  screen 
was  ever  more  lacy  or  delicate  in  pattern  than 
they.  The  light  sifting  through  the  interlac- 
ing branches  and  fluttering  leaves  has  gathered 
into  itself  all  the  tints  of  the  autumn  and  has 
left  its  delicious  colour  on  every  object.  Can 
you  not  hear  the  chimes  ring  out  on  the  clear 
air  or  the  clock  striking  its  note  of  warning 
that  time  is  fleeting?  Look!  the  people  are 
gathering — the  dry  leaves  crackle  under  their 
feet — the  young  people  glance  shyly  at  each 
other  as  the  parents  cordially  grasp  each 
other's  hands — strains  from  the  organ  sum- 
mon all  to  enter — a  hush,  then  the  congrega- 
tion breaks  forth, 

"Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love." 

Silence — the  minister  prays !  Yes,  the  spirit 
of  worship  is  in  this  Church  at  Old  Lyme. 
If  it  is  true  that  Mr.  Hassam  uses  his  figures 


176       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

simply  to  play  upon  them  in  his  marvellous  ren- 
dering of  nature,  he  certainly  gives  them  such 
vitality  that  the  place  would  be  void  without 
them.  Even  in  ''The  Caulker"  (Fig.  129), 
Cincinnati  Museum,  the  man  attracts  us,  small 
though  his  part  in  the  picture  may  be,  not  be- 
cause he  is  human  but  because  there  is  some- 
thing vital  in  his  being  there  at  all.  Again 
colour  to  Mr.  Hassam  is  a  real,  an  innate 
power.  He  is  really  "creating  design  by 
means  of  colour,''  says  one  critic. 

Possibly  one  of  the  most  striking  features, 
if  we  may  call  them  such,  of  the  modern  Amer- 
ican artist  is  his  choice  of  subjects.  Again 
and  again  it  is  some  special  aspect  of  the  great 
mechanical  problems  that  face  the  world.  In 
''The  Caulker"  the  great  hulk  of  the  ocean 
vessel  hints  at  the  tremendous  traffic  on  the 
seas;  the  pictures  of  the  Culebra  cut  suggest 
the  open  waterway  between  the  continents ;  the 
many  paintings  of  the  night  furnaces  of  Pitts- 
burgh tell  of  the  great  industries  that  govern 
nations.  Then,  too,  there  are  the  pictures  of 
river  dredging,  the  building  of  bridges,  the  dig- 
ging of  tunnels,  and  the  laying  of  railroad 
tracks.  We  do  not  say  that  the  artist  chooses 
his  subject  for  any  other  reason  than  artistic 
value,  but  we  do  believe  that  the  dignity  of 
labour  has  no  better  exponent  than  the  artist 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  177 


when  he  helps  the  public  to  see  beauty  in  the 
work  of  everyday  Ufe.  Mr.  Kreisler,  the  emi- 
nent violinist,  was  right  when  he  said  recently : 
'1  believe  that  art  is  to  be  the  uplifting  power 
in  America." 

"The  Portrait''  (Fig.  130),  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts,  Syracuse,  by  J.  Alden  Weir,  is  specially 
interesting  to  us  as  a  likeness  of  the  artist's 
daughter.  It  is  difficult  to  decide  when 
Mr.  Weir  is  at  his  best,  in  portraiture  or 
landscapes.  We  feel  like  saying  of  his  paint- 
ings as  Gainsborough  said  of  the  work  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  "How  various  he  is."  Syra- 
cuse is  fortunate  in  owning  examples  in  both 
branches  of  Mr.  Weir's  art.  Again  note  that 
it  is  the  simplicity  of  the  composition,  tem- 
pered with  a  self-restraint  that  has  eliminated 
everything  but  the  essentials,  that  charms  us. 
The  arrangement  of  the  hair,  the  gown,  the 
pose — all  are  in  perfect  harmony.  There  is 
no  catering  to  the  ultra-modiste  that  savours 
of  the  ridiculous,  either  in  artist  or  subject. 

In  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  is  Mr. 
Weir's  "Red  Bridge"  (Fig.  131) — an  iron 
bridge  thrown  across  the  Shetucket  River, 
Windham,  Conn.  Was  anything  ever  more 
picturesque  ?  And  notice  how  exquisitely  deco- 
rative it  is.  It  has  the  quality  of  a  bit  of  old 
lace  that  adds  charm  to  an  elegant  gown.  Mr. 


178        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Weir,  born  at  West  Point  in  1852,  was  first 
a  pupil  of  his  father,  Robert  W.  Weir,  then  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Design,  New  York 
City.  He  went  to  Paris  and  studied  under 
Gerome  in  ficole  des  Beaux-Arts.  He  now 
lives  in  New  York  City  and  is  president  of  the 
National  Academy  of  Design — elected  to  fill 
the  place  of  Mr.  Alexander  who  resigned  just 
before  his  death. 

Mr.  Thomas  W.  Dewing,  a  native  of  Bos- 
ton, 1 85 1,  was  trained  largely  in  the  Julian 
Academy,  Paris.  His  paintings  have  a  qual- 
ity of  their  own,  so  insistent  that  when  once 
felt  it  is  impossible  to  overlook.  His  pictures 
are  like  letters  from  a  personal  friend;  each 
one  is  distinct,  and  yet  each  has  the  familiar 
phraseology  of  the  writer.  In  ^'Writing  a 
Letter''  (Fig.  132),  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo, 
the  element  of  aloofness  at  first  almost  says 
"stand  off,"  but  the  soft  persuasiveness  of  the 
enveloping  atmosphere  holds  us  as  it  also  holds 
these  two  figures  in  the  perfect  design.  There 
is  no  emptiness  in  that  room,  yet  we  frankly 
aver  that  a  real  room  so  bare  as  that  would  be 
empty;  even  the  personality  of  two  women 
could  not  illuminate  it  and  make  it  palpitate 
as  has  Mr.  Dewing  with  his  magic  brush. 

His  women  are  exquisite  in  dainty  gowns  of 
soft  material  and  tender  colours,  and  their  ex- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  179 


quisiteness  is  that  of  women  used  to  selecting 
beautiful  apparel,  rather  than  fragile  women 
with  no  power  of  endurance.  Look  at  these 
two  in  'Writing  a  Letter/*  They  have  square 
shoulders,  with  well-developed  muscles,  and 
finely  poised  heads  and  no  superfluous  flesh  to 
interfere  with  the  full  use  of  the  nervous  tem- 
perament that  is  the  American  woman's  spe- 
cial asset.  A  nervous  temperament  is  some- 
thing to  be  desired,  but  the  ''Oh,  I  am  so  nerv- 
ous!'' habit  is  to  be  shunned  as  one  would 
fight  a  wasting  disease.  The  first  can  remove 
mountains;  a  mole-hill  overcomes  the  second. 

Possibly  we  might  be  better  pleased  if  Mr. 
Dewing  would  always  represent  a  robust  type 
of  American  womanhood  in  his  paintings. 
"The  Lady  with  the  Macaw"  (Fig.  133),  Al- 
bright Art  Gallery,  Buffalo,  is  a  delicate, 
lovely  woman  and  probably  has  the  nervous 
energy  that  would  outstrip  many  of  her 
plumper  sisters,  yet  a  wholesome,  pink-fleshed 
woman  is  not  only  a  pleasing  picture  but 
holds  possibilities  of  great  reserve  force.  We 
love  the  soft  hazy  atmosphere  Mr.  Dewing 
knows  so  well  how  to  use  in  developing  his 
delicious  tones.  His  colour  is  like  that  of  ripe 
fruit,  mellow  and  illusive.  How  the  rich,  warm 
blood  of  the  American  girl  of  to-day  glows  un- 
der his  atmosphere  and  colour;  and  how  she 


i8o       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


gains  in  dignity  and  poise  in  his  compositions 
so  full  of  strength  and  repose!  We  are  re- 
minded in  many  of  his  paintings  of  what  Mr. 
Kenyon  Cox  says:  ''Horizontal  lines  will  sug- 
gest repose;  vertical  lines  will  suggest  rigid- 
ity and  stability;  curved  lines  will  convey  the 
idea  of  motion."  Our  artists  need  to  give  our 
American  women  just  these  qualities  if  they 
are  to  keep  abreast  of  the  wholesome,  well- 
trained,  up-to-date  woman  and  represent  her 
as  she  is  in  her  true  womanhood. 

Joseph  R.  DeCamp  was  a  pupil  of  Duveneck 
(see  page  102),  and  naturally  his  work  savours 
of  Munich.  This,  however,  does  not  detract 
from  his  own  manner  of  expressing  himself 
in  his  work.  In  the  ''Silver  Waist*'  (Fig.  134) 
he  shows  a  strength  in  handling  his  subject  that 
marks  the  ease  with  which  he  obtains  results. 
Mr.  DeCamp  inspires  confidence  because  he  is 
perfectly  sure  of  himself.  His  foundation  was 
well  laid  and  he  never  fumbles  at  his  work. 
Not  always  are  his  compositions  interesting, 
especially  those  where  his  women  are  holding 
vases  or  cups  up  to  the  light.  It  is  one  thing 
for  the  doctor,  in  Don's  "Dropsical  Woman,'' 
to  hold  his  beaker  to  the  light  and  another  for 
a  woman,  with  no  earthly  reason,  to  hold  a 
glass  to  the  light.  The  pose  is  strained,  to  say 
the  least. 


CHAPTER  XX 


TEN  AMERICAN  PAINTERS— 
(Continued) 


TWACHTMAN— BENSON— TARBELL—REID— 
METCALF— SIMMONS 


HE  spiritual  vision  of  the  late  John  H. 


Twachtman  gave  him  an  understanding 
of  nature's  secrets  that  few  artists  have  ever 
attained.  He  seemed  to  divine  the  underlying 
principles  governing  the  elements.  Unreal  and 
unsubstantial  were  many  of  Mr.  Twachtman's 
visions,  when  his  grasp  fell  just  short  of  his 
reach,  yet  they  never  lost  the  impelling  force 
of  his  artistic  instincts. 

Naturally  it  is  given  to  few  to  understand 
his  fleeting  dreams  and  wandering  sprites  that 
mark  a  spring  morning  or  a  gathering  mist, 
but  none  of  us  can  mistake  the  tremendous 
forces  of  "Niagara  in  Winter"  (Fig.  135). 
The  magnificent  strength  in  the  drop  of  that 
water,  made  manifest  in  the  foaming,  seething 
mass  leaping  up  to  the  very  source  of  its  latent 
energy,  is  superbly  matched  in  the  cold,  stern 


i82       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


force  that  grips  the  laughing,  glittering  tor- 
rent and  piles  it  high,  as  in  mockery,  at  the 
very  feet  of  the  boasting  opponent.  Twacht- 
man  has  here  grasped  the  elemental  in  nature 
and  with  a  swift,  sure  brush  has  laid  bare  her 
fundamental  forces. 

We  have  often  stood  beside  cascades  like 
this  very  "Waterfall"  (Fig.  136),  Metropoli- 
tan Museum  of  Art,  and  watched  the  dancing 
stream  slip  over  and  around  the  obstructing 
ledges  of  rock  on  its  way  to  the  pool  below, 
but  not  until  Mr.  Twachtman  touched  it  with 
his  vitalising,  cool,  grey-blue  hue  did  we  feel, 
with  Goethe,  that, 

*'Water  its  living  strength  first  shows, 
When  obstacles  its  course  oppose." 

Mr.  Twachtman  was  born  in  Cincinnati, 
Ohio,  in  1853,  and  died  at  his  home  in  Glouces- 
ter, Mass.,  in  1902.  He  first  studied  with 
Frank  Duveneck  in  his  native  city,  and  was 
associated  with  him  again  in  Venice.  He  spent 
two  years  in  Munich,  and  later  in  Paris  came 
under  the  influence  of  the  French  tonalists  and 
impressionists. 

Although  Frank  W.  Benson,  Edmund  C. 
Tarbell  and  Robert  Reid  studied  together  in 
Paris  at  the  Julian  Academy  and  also  under 


Fig.   135 — Niagara  in  Winter.  Twachtman.  Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth 
Gallery,  New  York  City. 


Fig.  136 — The  Waterfall.   Twachtnian.   Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum 

of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  183 


Dannat,  they  are  entirely  dissimilar  in  their 
manner  of  work.  Each  man  accepted  the 
teachings  of  the  French  masters  in  his  own 
way,  transmuting  the  methods  into  distinctive 
traits  that  characterise  the  works  of  each.  In 
fact,  individuality  is  the  dominant  note  in  their 
paintings.  Mr.  Benson's  brush  has  caught  a 
certain  brightness  of  colour  and  light  that 
speaks  a  language  of  its  own.  No  one  could 
mistake  his  manner  of  entangling  the  sunlight 
in  the  hair  and  garments  of  his  open  air  fig- 
ures. He  plays  them  in  the  early  morning 
light,  and  as  the  evening  shadows  fall  he  fol- 
lows them  in  the  open  field  and  on  the  hilltop, 
under  sun-shades  and  in  open  verandas,  ever 
catching  the  varying  quality  of  sunlight  with 
unerring  artistic  instinct. 

In  ''Sunshine  and  Shadow''  (Fig.  137)  Mr. 
Benson  has  done  more  than  make  a  picture 
with  exquisite  decorative  quaHties;  he  has 
added  a  personal  note  that  goes  deeper  than 
the  mere  effect  of  sunlight,  as  the  title  implies. 
These  people  interest  us.  The  feeling  of  good 
fellowship  existing  between  them — this  mother 
and  daughter — echoes  in  our  hearts.  Such  a 
picture  is  warm  with  the  comradery  of  the 
true  home. 

In  no  portrait  has  Mr.  Benson  caught  the 
vital  spark  more  truly  than  in  his  "Portrait  of 


i84       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

a  Boy''  (Fig.  138),  Carnegie  Institute,  Pitts- 
burgh. Curious  and  a  little  doubtful  is  he, 
with  a  hint  of  rebellion  at  being  disturbed. 
These  are  the  dominating  traits  that  mark  this 
boy,  and  in  those  traits  this  is  a  universal  boy. 
A  boy  is  self-centred,  wanting  to  be  let  alone; 
a  girl  is  self-centred,  expecting  notice.  It  is 
not  always  that  Mr.  Benson's  portraits  have 
the  charm  and  personality  of  this  boy;  at  times 
he  seems  so  obsessed  with  the  artistic  quality 
of  his  work — making  a  picture  pure  and  sim- 
ple— that  the  element  of  likeness  is  all  but 
eliminated  from  the  portrait. 

Mr.  Benson  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass., 
1862,  and  on  his  return  from  Europe  settled 
in  Boston. 

Impressionism  in  Edmund  C.  Tarbell's 
paintings  is  a  sane  and  harmonious  use  of  col- 
our, united  with  sufficient  amount  of  form  and 
detail.  When  we  remember  how,  in  the  move- 
ment a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  the  pendu- 
lum swung,  as  usual,  to  the  extreme  in  the  lack 
of  all  form  and  detail  and  in  the  riotous  use 
of  violent  colour,  we  are  specially  gratified 
with  the  sanity  of  the  men  who  have  come  to 
stay.  If  ''colour  impression"  is  the  essential 
element  of  impressionists,  then  Mr.  Tarbell 
has  relegated  that  element  to  its  proper  place. 
As  we  look  at  the  'Woman  in  Pink  and 


Fig.  137 — Sunshine  and  Shadow.    Benson.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth 
Gallery,  New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  185 

Green"  (Fig.  139),  Cincinnati  Museum,  our 
sensation  is  that  produced  by  harmony.  The 
perfectly  balanced  cool  and  warm  tones  of  the 
young  woman's  costume  are  a  vital  part  of  the 
soft  rich  light  that  caresses  the  whole.  Then, 
too,  the  composition  is  exceedingly  attractive 
artistically.  It  might  be  a  quiet  corner  in  some 
summer  hotel;  the  young  woman,  sufficient 
unto  herself,  is  in  no  hurry;  the  women  at 
their  embroidery  are  self-centred — just  a  bit 
of  conventional  life  of  singular  charm  under 
the  refining  influence  of  Mr.  TarbelFs  brush. 
If  only  his  people  had  a  little  more  of  the  ac- 
tive alert  element,  so  characteristic  of  our  time, 
possibly  their  refinement  and  sincerity  would 
strike  a  deeper  chord  in  the  heart  of  picture 
lovers.  As  it  is,  we  love  them  and  go  away 
feeling  that  it  was  good  for  to  have  seen  them. 

Mr.  Tarbell  was  born  in  Boston  in  1862  and 
on  his  return  from  Europe  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  his  native  city.  He  has  been  a  teacher 
in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  school  for  many 
years.  That  the  Boston  artists,  Mr.  Benson 
and  Mr.  Tarbell  and  others,  have  a  charac- 
teristic undertone  of  their  own  is  unquestioned, 
and  that  their  exclusiveness,  if  we  may  so  name 
it,  stands  for  strength  and  simplicity  is  equally 
true. 

"The  Miniature"  (Fig.  140)  Museum  of 


i86       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


Art,  Detroit,  Mich.,  is  one  of  Robert  Reid's 
brilliant,  decorative  pictures,  in  which  he  has 
combined  everything  that  contributes  to  form- 
ing the  true  portrait  of  a  woman.  There  is  the 
artist's  usual  skill  in  short  broken  pastel 
strokes,  in  a  woven  network  of  strong  colours, 
leaving  the  canvas  partly  covered  to  enhance 
the  vitality  of  the  whole.  But  aside  from  all 
this,  there  is  the  woman,  individual  in  every 
line  from  the  pose  of  her  head  to  the  flirt  of 
her  gown  around  the  table  leg.  Decorative? 
yes,  but  it  is  especially  so  because  Mr.  Reid 
knew  how  to  catch  the  woman  at  the  right  mo- 
ment. No  man,  not  even  an  artist,  could  have 
told  this  woman  how  to  take  that  particular 
position.  The  tender  modelling  of  the  head, 
with  its  glorious  hair,  is  a  perfect  delight. 

Mr.  Reid  was  born  in  Stockbridge,  Mass., 
1862,  and  on  coming  home  from  abroad  made 
his  home  in  New  York  City. 

When  Willard  L.  Metcalf  (1858)  painted 
''Midsummer''  (Fig.  141)  he  gave  more  than 
the  impression  of  a  country  road  in  summer; 
he  gave  the  road  itself.  How  often  have  we 
jogged  along  that  dirt  road,  feeling  the  com- 
fort of  the  cool  shade — if  there  was  any  cool- 
ness that  still  summer's  day  with  the  sun  pour- 
ing its  heat  over  everything — and  urging  the 
horse  along  the  open  places  to  the  next  shaded 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

.  Fig.  140 — The  Miniature.    Reid.    Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Art,  Detroit, 


Fig.  141 — Midsummer.    Metcalf.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gallery, 

New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  187 


stretch  beyond.  Mr.  Metcalf  thoroughly  un- 
derstands the  impressionist's  methods  of  high- 
pitched  pictures  where  the  feeling  of  the  open 
air  is  gained  by  contrasts  of  pure  colour  used 
in  broken  patches,  to  give  vibration  and  bril- 
liancy. But  he  usually  stops  just  short  of  the 
vibration  line  and  lays  his  paint  on  thinly  and 
smoothly.  This  gives  the  quiet  power  to  his 
pictures  that  makes  them  so  loved  by  the  gen- 
eral public.  Not  only  are  his  pictures  admired 
by  the  Philistine  but,  if  a  dozen  and  more 
prizes  and  honourable  mentions  in  this  coun- 
try and  abroad  count  for  anything,  they  are 
admired  and  thought  worthy  by  artists  and  art 
lovers.  A  dozen  or  more  galleries,  too,  have 
specimens  of  his  works. 

Mr.  Metcalf  was  born  in  Lowell,  Mass., 
1858,  and  now  lives  in  New  York  City. 

Edward  E.  Simmons  (1852)  is  widely 
known  by  his  mural  painting.  He  was  one  of 
the  artists  chosen  for  decorating  the  buildings 
of  the  Columbian  Exposition  in  1893,  and  since 
then  his  work  has  been  placed  in  many  public 
buildings  of  our  cities  and  states;  he  was  also 
one  of  the  decorators  of  the  Library  of  Con- 
gress at  Washington.  The  study  of  American 
Mural  Painting  is  a  subject  by  itself,  of  the 
greatest  importance  in  the  development  of 
American  painting. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


WINTER 

SYMONS  —  REDFIELD  —  OCHTMAN— SCHO- 
FIELD^HARRISON-^ROSEN— CARLSON 
—RYDER 

/^ARDNER  SYMONS  (1863),  Hke  some 
of  the  later  men,  seems  so  largely  depend- 
ent on  the  Frost  King  for  his  inspiration  that 
he  naturally  slips  into  the  winter  group.  It 
is  our  province,  as  the  lay  public,  to  try  to  un- 
derstand the  works  of  artists  who  are  sincerely 
and  sanely  picturing  for  us  the  world  we  live 
in.  We  may  not  personally  enjoy  some  par- 
ticular picture,  but  we  can  be  sensitive  to 
whether  it  rings  true  or  not.  To  those  of  us 
who  are  familiar  with  country  scenes  all  the 
year  round  the  paintings  of  our  landscapists 
will  form  quite  a  complete  monthly  calendar. 

We  are  becoming  very  well  acquainted  with 
the  winter  king;  we  come  upon  him  so  often  in 
the  various  galleries,  and  are  conscious  that 
his  stern,  uncompromising  reign  is  a  favourite 

188 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  189 

theme  of  the  year's  seasons.  It  is  exceedingly 
interesting  to  follow  the  artists'  treatment  of 
winter — as  various  as  the  artists  are  different 
one  from  another. 

These  artists  are  dealing  with  light,  and 
never  is  light  so  fickle  as  when  it  plays  about 
the  snowdrifts  and  through  the  stripped  trees. 
The  ^^Sunlight  in  the  Woods''  (Fig.  142),  Car- 
negie Public  Library,  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  as 
Mr.  Symons  shows  it  to  us,  is  frankly  co- 
quettish slipping  in  and  out,  catching  this  bare 
trunk  and  that  snow  bank,  this  dark  evergreen 
and  that  bubbling  water  tumbling  over  the 
rough  stones.  The  wood  and  stream  are  full 
of  the  glee  of  laughing  children  playing  hide- 
and-seek  in  the  soft  clean  snow  and  hiding  be- 
hind boulder  and  tree  trunk.  In  imagination 
you  can  see  the  children;  and  do  you  not  feel 
the  gladness  and  sparkle  that  the  winter  sun 
has  brought  to  the  wood  and  stream  and  bar- 
ren trees,  standing  knee-deep  in  the  snow- 
drifts? Mr.  Symons  has  a  certain  American 
independence  that  is  delightful.  He  is  bound 
by  no  rule  that  does  not  harmonise  with  his 
own  originality.  His  independence  is  con- 
trolled by  clear-sighted  good  sense. 

The  "River  in  Winter"  (Fig.  143),  Institute 
of  Art,  Minneapolis,  by  Mr.  Symons,  is 
flowing  steadily  through  the  valley,  where 


IQO       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

for  ages  it  has  been  eating  out  the  crumbling 
banks,  making  a  lake  of  itself,  then  drawing 
in  its  forces  because  the  rocks  and  trees  com- 
pel it,  only  again,  however,  to  tear  out  new  ma- 
terial with  its  collected  force.  Mr.  Symons 
has  vividly  portrayed  the  history  of  that  sul- 
len water  in  its  devastating  moods.  The  heavy 
cold  of  the  dark  ice-laden  river  penetrates  to 
the  very  marrow — the  air  is  cold;  the  snow  is 
cold ;  the  water  is  cold ;  not  even  the  sun  cares 
to  linger,  for  the  winter  king  is  in  no  mood 
to  give  out  joy,  though  he  makes  us  wish  for 
the  open  fire  in  the  home  near  the  river. 

These  two  scenes  show  how  sympathetically 
he  approaches  his  subjects  and  how  susceptible 
he  is  to  the  ever-changing  aspect  of  nature. 
We  might  name  our  landscapists  *'Interpre- 
ters  of  Nature,"  for  such  is  the  burden  of  their 
theme,  only  unfortunately  not  always  are  their 
renderings  understood  by  us,  the  public.  When 
not  comprehended,  both  they  and  their  pictures 
,  fall  by  the  way. 

Of  the  American  landscapists  now  nearing 
the  half-century  mark  probably  Mr.  Redfield 
is  the  most  widely  known,  though  as  one  critic 
says :  ''He  was  no  precocious  prodigy,  and  it  is 
doubtful  if  any  one  realised  .  .  .  that  he  was 
destined  to  become  one  of  the  foremost  paint- 
ers of  America,  whose  work  would  receive  gen- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  191 

eral  and  substantial  recognition  before  he  had 
turned  forty."  He  was  the  first  American 
landscapist  from  whom  the  French  Govern- 
ment bought  a  picture  to  hang  in  the  Luxem- 
bourg Gallery,  Paris. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  Mr.  Redfield  to 
paint  a  hopeless  winter,  yet  he  never  fails  to 
make  us  feel  the  true  spirit  of  the  frost  king. 
There  is  no  sentimental  masking  of  the  deso- 
lation that  follows  in  the  wake  of  snow  and  ice. 
At  one  time  we  feel  the  light  fluffy  snow  that, 
is  soft  and  warm,  like  a  wool  comforter;  then 
again  the  heavy  wet  snow  that  weighs  down, 
like  a  cheap  cotton  comforter,  with  no  sem- 
blance of  warmth  and  comfort  in  it.  He  often 
changes  his  point  of  view  in  dealing  with  the 
cranky,  uncertain  king  of  winter,  but  he  does 
it  to  help  us  to  a  better  appreciation  of  the 
whimsical  vagaries  of  a  monarch  subject  to 
powers  beyond  him.  A  certain  desolateness 
hangs  over  the  bare  hillside  and  heavy  flowing 
river  in  "The  Crest"  (Fig.  144),  John  Herron 
Art  Institute,  Indianapolis,  but  the  tiny  set- 
tlement snuggled  against  the  rough  sidling 
road  and  the  glistening  snow  caught  in  the  hol- 
lows suggest  that  hope  still  lingers.  His  keen 
appreciation  of  the  latent  power  buried  under 
the  snow  and  ice  and  hidden  in  the  gaunt  leaf- 
less trees  infuses  a  sense  of  life.  The  barren- 


192       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

ness  of  the  aspect  gives  no  hint  of  a  dead  world 
— nature  is  simply  accumulating  forces  as  she 
sleeps. 

When  Mr.  Redfield  chooses  winter  as  his 
theme  in  the  "Laurel  Brook"  (Fig.  145),  and 
pictures  it  in  such  frank,  simple  language,  we 
love  him.  The  optimistic  spirit  of  that  scene 
would  dissipate  the  worst  case  of  the  blues. 
The  brook  pays  no  heed  to  old  winter  except 
to  laugh  as  it  works  its  way  in  and  out  over 
the  obstructions  thrown  in  its  way.  The  laurel 
shakes  her  dark  shiny  leaves  and  laughs  as 
the  white  burden  slips  to  the  ground.  Even 
the  stark  trees  are  snug  with  their  feet  buried 
in  the  soft  snow.  The  short  strokes,  used  with 
the  restraint  of  one  who  is  not  carried  away  by 
a  fad,  have  given  just  the  right  amount  of 
aliveness  to  that  dark,  merry  brook. 

Possibly  because  December  was  Mr.  Red- 
field's  birth  month  he  was  given  a  deeper 
knowledge  of  the  old  winter  king.  Certain 
it  is  he  never  fails  to  give  the  thrills  that  the 
biting  air  brings,  whether  it  is  to  shiver  as  the 
dampness  clutches  us  or  to  laugh  as  we  glide 
over  the  soft  snow. 

It  is  cold  along  the  "Delaware  River"  (Fig. 
146)  when  the  snow  is  caught  in  patches  and 
skims  of  ice  hold  the  water  here  and  there,  so 
no  wonder  the  picture  makes  the  flesh  pimple 


Fig.    145 — Laurel  Brook.     Redfield.     Courtesy  of   the  Albright 
Art  Gallery,  Buffalo. 


From  a  Thistle  Print.    Copyright,  Detroit  Publishing  Co. 

Fig.  146 — Delaware  River.    Redfield.    Courtesy  of  the  Corcoran  Gallery 
of  Art,  Washington. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS 


a  little.  Only  the  other  day  I  saw  a  number  of 
paintings  of  winter  scenes — one  was  Mr.  Red- 
field's — and  then  realised  as  never  before  that 
it  is  Mr.  Redfield's  sympathetic  touch  that 
warms  our  hearts.  He  is  picturing  something 
dear  to  him,  and  the  personal  note  in  his  sim- 
ple lines  appeals  to  us  at  once.  Nothing  ex- 
travagant, nothing  overdrawn,  just  candid 
truth,  is  the  element  that  made  the  artificial 
winter  scenes  slip  in  the  background.  The 
''Delaware  River'*  was  one  of  the  paintings 
purchased  for  the  Corcoran  collection  from  the 
First  Exhibition  of  Contemporary  American 
Oil  Paintings  in  1907,  held  in  the  Corcoran 
Gallery  of  Art. 

Possibly  we  never  saw  ''Sycamore  Hill" 
(Fig.  147),  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh, 
until  Mr.  Redfield  showed  it  to  us — 

"we're  made  so  that  we  love 
First  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a  hundred  times  nor  cared  to  see," 

but  when  an  artist  whose  heart  is  alive  to 
God's  universe  fixes  on  canvas  a  bit  of  nature 
with  the  breath  of  heaven  in  it,  we  love  it.  Mr. 
Redfield  is  widening  our  ideas  of  winter  and 
helping  us  to  feel  the  pent-up  joy  of  the  close- 
locked  earth. 

Edward  W.  Redfield,  born  in  Bridgeport, 


194       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Delaware  in  1868,  is  decidedly  individual,  yet 
his  individuality  is  not  of  the  eccentric  kind. 
He  works  almost  exclusively  out  of  doors,  and 
very  rapidly,  so  that  many  canvases  are  the 
result  of  a  season's  work.  To  have  one  of 
his  winter  scenes  on  the  wall  of  a  living-room 
brings  joy  the  season  through.  In  winter  the 
home  is  the  cosier  because  of  the  presence  of 
his  literal  portrayal  of  winter,  and  in  summer 
there  comes  from  it  a  breath  of  crisp  cold  air 
deliciously  refreshing.  Many  of  his  paintings 
are  scenes  from  near  his  home  in  the  Delaware 
Valley  country,  but  their  import  cannot  be  con- 
fined to  any  special  section ;  wherever  is  found 
snow  and  ice  there  is  the  essence  of  his  art. 

"December"  (Fig.  148),  Carnegie  Public 
Library,  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  is  certainly  a  raw 
bleak  month  in  this  section,  wherever  it  is,  and 
the  scene  itself  is  not  one  to  hold  us,  but  Mr. 
Ochtman  commands  us  to  halt.  Now  we  begin 
to  realise  that  here  is  beauty  of  the  most  en- 
chanting kind.  See  how  well  balanced  it  is. 
Our  eyes  follow  along  the  narrow  pass  between 
the  low  sloping  hills  and  the  broken  line  of 
trees,  conscious  that  the  sunbeam  struggling 
to  break  through  the  clouds  is  calling  us.  We 
see  its  light  reflected  in  the  pool  in  the  fore- 
ground and  follow  it  on  and  on,  realising  that 
we  are  under  a  spell.   After  all,  is  the  scene 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  195 

bleak  and  drear?  Is  it  not  rather  one  of 
hope? 

These  men  have  opened  vistas  in  the  realm 
of  light  of  which  we  never  before  were  con- 
scious. We  may  not  always  agree  with  their 
methods,  possibly  because  of  ignorance,  but 
they  have  set  us  to  thinking.  The  lovely  soft 
radiance  that  envelopes  this  winter  scene 
speaks  to  our  souls;  we  are  learning  to  love 
winter  scenes  when  the  brush  of  a  genius 
shows  them  to  us. 

Leonard  Ochtman,  born  in  Zonnemaire,  Hol- 
land, in  1854,  came  to  America  when  twelve 
years  old  and  settled  in  Albany.  He  worked 
in  a  wood-engraver's  office  in  that  city  but, 
except  for  that  training,  he  is  self-taught  in 
the  art  of  painting.    He  lives  at  Cot,  Conn. 

W.  Elmer  Schofield  (1867),  a  native  of 
Philadelphia,  was  first  trained  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia,  and 
then  studied  in  Paris.  He  is  now  living  in  his 
native  city.  One  would  scarcely  think  of  us- 
ing scenes  from  a  snow-covered  field,  a  river 
of  broken  ice,  or  shadeless  trees  scattered  over 
undulating  ground  ornamented  with  snow- 
patches  for  decorative  patterns,  yet  Mr.  Scho- 
field does.  His  pictures  are  like  so  many  pat- 
terns for  tapestry  work  and  as  varied  as  those 
taken  from  the  kaleidoscope. 


196       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

When  he  painted  "A  January  Day"  (Fig. 
149),  Cincinnati  Museum,  he  attained  just  that 
quality  of  atmospheric  illusiveness  that  leads  us 
through  this  open  wood  into  the  fields  and 
then  beyond  into  the  unknown.  We  care  not 
for  the  hard  broken  patches  of  snow  nor  for 
the  bare  places  where  brush-heaps  and  stones 
are  gathered,  as  we  follow  his  lead.  The  spirit 
of  winter  is  in  this  open  wood.  The  dancing 
light  and  shade,  the  blue  cloud-flecked  sky,  the 
tall  grey  trees,  and  the  shorter  glossy  green 
ones,  the  whistling  wind  creaking  the  bare 
branches  and  soughing  in  the  evergreens — Mr. 
Schofield  has  made  us  conscious  of  it  all.  And 
colour !  what  is  the  colour  of  nature  in  winter 
but  the  haunting  sense  of  something  gone  or 
something  that  is  coming  again?  Even  the 
glow  of  the  setting  sun  in  the  west  is  but  for 
a  moment.  The  real  radiance  is  the  under- 
tone coming  from  within  the  bare  trees  and 
brown  earth.  Every  true  painter  of  winter 
makes  us  feel  the  hidden  power  temporarily 
held  in  leash. 

The  '^Old  Mills  on  the  Somme"  (Fig.  150), 
by  Mr.  Schofield,  is  a  quiet  scene,  yet  we  feel 
that  the  whirr  of  the  stones  and  the  hum  of  the 
belts  fill  the  air  with  the  music  of  industry. 
The  open  door  and  the  snug  well-kept  air  of 
the  buildings  indicate  the  thrift  of  labour.  The 


fioin  a  Tlnxtic  J^rinl.    Copyright.  DilruU  I'ublisfnny  Cu. 

Vu\.  151 — Woodstock  Meadows  in  Winter.  Harrison. 
Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo. 


Fig.  152 — Frozen  River.    Rosen.    Courtesy  of  the  Deigado  Museum  of 
Art,  New  Orleans. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  197 


ancient  buildings  beside  the  picturesque,  rag- 
ged old  stream,  peer  anxiously  into  the  deeper 
pool  and  smile  as  they  see  their  own  faces.  The 
snow  clinging  to  the  stones  and  water-grass 
seems  to  catch  up  the  smile  and  give  it  back  to 
us.  The  shimmer  of  green  and  purple-brown 
that  lurks  in  the  shadows  and  around  the  bare 
trees  has  the  tantalising  quality  of  the  opal  and 
defies  too  close  scrutiny  of  its  exact  tint. 

'Woodstock  Meadows  in  Winter''  (Fig. 
151),  Museum  of  Art,  Toledo,  Ohio,  by  Birge 
Harrison,  is  a  very  personal  scene.  Let  us 
stand  in  the  loft  window  of  the  barn  and  allow 
our  eye  to  follow  the  course  of  the  little  stream. 
Yes,  it  is  the  same  brook  we  paddled  through 
barefooted  only  a  few  summers  ago.  See,  the 
murky  sky  smiles  at  times.  The  water 
sparkles  and  glistens  as  each  tiny  drop  acts 
like  a  self-appointed  mirror.  We  are  seeing 
a  beauty  in  this  leaden  day  and  this  cold 
running  water  that  we  would  scarcely  have 
taken  time  to  see  had  not  the  artist  shown 
it  to  us.  Mr.  Harrison  says:  '1  believe  it 
is  one  of  the  artist's  chief  functions  to  watch 
for  the  rare  moods  when  nature  wafts  aside 
the  veil  of  the  commonplace  and  shows  us  her 
inner  soul  in  some  bewildering  vision  of  poetic 
beauty." 

Mr.  Harrison  is  a  native  of  Philadelphia 


198       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

(1854)  and  was  first  trained  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Academy  of  Fine  Arts  and  then  studied 
at  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts,  Paris.  As  early  as 
1882  the  French  government  bought  one  of 
his  paintings.  He  is  also  well  known  as  a  critic 
and  writer  on  art. 

The  painting  about  which  a  wholesome  sen- 
timent clings  is  ''Frozen  River''  (Fig.  152),  by 
Charles  Rosen  (1878),  Delgado  Museum  of 
Art,  New  Orleans.  The  museum  has  two  pay- 
days each  week  and  the  first  picture  purchased 
from  the  admission  fees  (25  cents  each)  was 
"Frozen  River."  How  quickly  our  interest  is 
enlisted  and  how  grateful  we  are  for  the  wise 
selection ! 

Mr.  Rosen,  a  native  of  Pennsylvania  and  a 
pupil  of  Mr.  William  M.  Chase,  is  young  in 
years,  but  already  he  has  had  many  marks  of 
honour  and  respect  in  prizes  and  club  member- 
ships. His  works  speak  for  him  in  no  uncertain 
language.  The  scene  of  the  "Frozen  River'' 
is  of  no  special  significance,  but  the  intense 
cold  of  a  winter  morning  brooding  over  it  is 
that  of  any  river  when  the  mercury  drops  be- 
low zero.  How  plainly  we  understand  the 
treachery  of  the  undercurrent  that  comes  to 
the  open  under  the  tree  and  bushes !  We  feel 
that  unsuspected  airholes  lurk  under  the  white 
surface.    What  a  splendid  example  of  con- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  199 


tending  forces  are  the  tumbled  and  contorted 
rapids,  caught  at  last  by  the  stronger  force! 
Who  could  look  at  this  strong,  vigorous  paint- 
ing of  winter's  tightest  mood  without  a  feel- 
ing of  weakness  to  battle  with  it?  The  cold 
lowering  sky  hovers  over  the  colder  white  ex- 
panse, and  even  the  dark  green-blue  water  is 
struggling  against  the  power  that  threatens 
it.  Mr.  Rosen  has  caught  the  spirit  of  winter 
and  has  made  us  feel  its  power. 

But  in  ''The  Brook  in  Autumn''  (Fig.  153) 
Mr.  Rosen  is  equally  forceful  in  foreshadowing 
the  coming  winter.  The  tang  in  the  air  and  the 
glint  in  the  water  warn  us  that  the  sun  is  losing 
his  power. 

Another  artist — one  of  our  younger  men 
(1875) — is  portraying  winter  in  a  peculiarly 
sympathetic  mood.  Over  and  over  again  Mr. 
John  F.  Carlson  takes  us  to  the  woods  to  show 
us  how  the  snow  lodges  on  the  trees,  always  on 
the  north  side,  and  how  the  hollows  are  filled 
to  overflowing  and  how  the  sun  is  seeking  out 
every  snow  patch  as  a  fit  place  for  his  dance. 
Not  long  since  it  was  my  joy  to  see  a  dozen  or 
more  of  these  woodland  scenes  at  the  Macbeth 
Gallery,  New  York  City.  I  felt  the  years  slip 
away  and  again  I  was  exploring  every  nook 
and  corner  of  the  old  woods  at  the  home  farm. 
Again  Father  was  saying:  ''In  a  moment, 


200       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


daughter,  we  will  reach  the  open  space."  And 
sure  enough  there  was  the  bright  spot.  The 
big  tree  trunks  stood  apart,  as  it  were,  that 
we  might  catch  the  glory  of  the  full  sunshine. 
And  the  "Woodland  Brook"  (Fig.  154) !  Who 
has  ever  made  a  truer. picture  of  the  dark,  rest- 
less water  insisting  on  its  right  of  way  regard- 
less of  snow  and  cold?  Although  Mr.  Carl- 
son is  a  native  of  Kalmar  Lan,  Sweden,  he  is  a 
true  American  in  his  woodland  scenes. 

Chauncey  F.  Ryder  is  also  an  artist  who  finds 
poetry  in  stripped  trees  and  bare  hillsides;  in 
sullen  waters  and  wind  swept  fields.  His  sym- 
pathetic appreciation  of  nature  has  revealed 
to  him  many  of  her  secrets  and  made  him  pe- 
culiarly sensitive  to  her  moods.  When  he  in- 
terprets for  us  "Pack  Monadnock"  (Fig.  155) 
in  its  undress  and  bare  grey  head,  we  at  once 
feel  the  tang  of  the  New  England  winter  in 
the  air.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  explain 
that  Monadnock  is  an  isolated  mountain  in 
southwestern  New  Hampshire,  for  Mr.  Ryder 
has  so  specialised  the  individual  character  of 
the  piled  up  mass  that  he  has  revealed  it  to  us. 
The  snug  homes,  each  with  its  element  of  aloof- 
ness, have  an  air  of  exclusiveness  that  speaks 
volumes  about  restricted  property.  "We,"  they 
seem  to  say,  "are  a  privileged  class ;  this  lone 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  201 


peak  is  ours;  intruders  are  warned  to  keep 
ofif." 

Fortunately  for  us  the  artist  thought  differ- 
ently and  has  invited  us  to  enjoy  a  rare  treat. 
And  what  a  wonderful  glimpse  we  have  of  the 
hoary  monster !  The  scattered  homes,  centres 
of  human  interest,  are  an  added  charm  to  the 
scene.  The  tall,  gaunt  trees  in  the  foreground 
acting  as  sentinels  are  a  setting  for  the  picture 
that  enhances  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  They 
give  a  sense  of  stability  to  the  level  space  that 
offsets  the  almost  stern  aspect  of  the  bald 
mountain  beyond.  And  how  lovingly  the  dis- 
tant trees  and  low  shrubs  snuggle  close  to  the 
ascending  sides  as  they  climb  toward  the  sum- 
mit. 

Mr.  Ryder  has  a  most  convincing  way  with 
trees.  He  not  only  makes  us  feel  their  power 
as  community  centres,  but  at  times,  as  in  his 
painting  ''The  Makers  of  Magic,"  privately 
owned,  we  are  conscious  of  the  haunts  of  dry- 
ads and  fauns.  Here  are  tall,  straight,  bare- 
trunked  trees  gathered  in  a  close  group  with 
their  tops  joined  and  the  sun  sifting  through 
— each  tree  the  home  of  a  nymph  and  the  open 
space  a  sunlit  ball  room  inviting  them  to  the 
dance.  The  spirit  of  the  past  is  awakened  by 
the  magic  makers  until  in  every  tree  trunk  lurks 
a  fawn,  a  dryad  or  a  nymph.   Wait  a  moment 


202       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


and  we  will  see  them  come  flocking  out  and 
again  the  woods  will  ring  with  song  and  laugh- 
ter. We  would  live  in  a  prosaic  world  were  it 
not  that  we  are  all  makers  of  magic.  We  are 
all  building  our  own  castles  in  Spain  and  peo- 
pling them  with  creatures  of  our  own  brain. 
Let  us  see  to  it  that  we  keep  our  imagination, 
for  then  we  will  keep  our  youth.  Much  of  our 
real  joy  is  in  the  things  of  our  own  creation 
and  most  of  those  things  are  mere  phantoms  of 
the  mind.  But  when  an  artist  in  pictures  or 
words  makes  permanent  these  imaginings  he 
touches  our  hearts  and  we  are  pleased. 

Mr.  Ryder  was  born  in  Danbury,  Conn.,  in 
1868.  He  studied  in  the  Chicago  Art  Insti- 
tute and  then  went  to  Paris.  While  in  Paris, 
in  1907,  he  had  the  honour  of  being  Awarded 
Honourable  Mention  from  the  French  Salon. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


BEAUX— HAWTHORNE— CASSATT. 

TYJISS  CECILIA  BEAUX  literally  forged 
her  way  to  success.  Nothing  was  too 
small  for  her  to  use  in  gaining  a  definite  end. 
At  first  it  was  certain  geological  survey  work, 
then  china  painting,  then  crayon  portraits  from 
photographs,  and  much  of  the  time  teaching, 
always  gaining  knowledge  and  applying  it  to 
her  art.  Completely  absorbed  in  doing  her 
best,  whatever  her  task,  inch  by  inch  she  gained 
power,  and,  in  the  words  of  William  James, 
she  suddenly  became  conscious  that  she  was 
one  of  the  competent  ones  of  the  world  and 
that  the  world  acknowledged  her  as  a  master- 
painter. 

A  master-painter  Miss  Beaux  certainly  is 
and  never  is  she  more  masterful  than  in  her 
portraits  of  young  girls.  Only  an  artist  who 
was  in  perfect  sympathy  with  the  ambitions  of 
girlhood  could  have  painted  "The  Dancing 
Lesson"  (Fig.  156),  in  the  Richard  Watson 
Gilder  Home,  New  York  City.   These  sisters, 

203 


204       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

the  daughters  of  the  late  Richard  Watson 
Gilder,  show  the  perfection  of  grace  and  nat- 
uralness. Could  anything  give  a  truer  idea  of 
sisterly  solicitude  than  the  older  girl's  manner 
in  leading  the  little  one  through  the  steps  of 
the  dance?  The  firm  grasp  of  the  little  hand 
and  the  words  of  encouragement  coming  from 
her  parted  lips  are  reflected  in  the  extended 
foot  and  pleased  smile  of  the  younger  sister. 
We  seem  to  hear  the  music  of  the  dance  and 
to  see  the  poetry  of  moving  figures  as  we 
stand  before  this  charming  group  so  perfect 
in  its  simplicity. 

One  of  the  most  charming  portraits  in  all 
American  art  is  Miss  Beaux's  "Ernesta'^ 
(Frontispiece),  a  late  acquisition  to  the  Met- 
ropolitan Museum  of  Art.  The  young  woman 
is  not  unknown  to  us,  for  in  1896  she  appeared, 
a  tiny  tot  holding  the  hand  of  her  nurse,  in  the 
Salon  of  Champ  de  Mars,  Paris,  together  with 
''A  New  England  Woman''  and  several  others 
by  Miss  Beaux.  Just  here  let  me  quote  from 
M.  Henri  Rochefort,  a  prominent  critic,  who 
wrote  of  Miss  Beaux's  portrait  of  Dr.  Grier 
in  the  Salon  of  1896:  "I  am  compelled  to 
admit,  not  without  some  chagrin,  that  not  one 
of  our  female  artists.  Mile.  Abbema  included, 
is  strong  enough  to  compete  with  the  lady  who 
has  given  us  this  year  the  portrait  of  Dr. 


FiQ»  156 — The  Dancing  Lesson.    Beaux.    Private  Collection. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  205 


Grier.  Composition,  flesh,  texture,  even  draw- 
ing— everything  is  there,  without  affectation 
and  without  seeking  for  an  effect/' 

Miss  Beaux  painted  Ernesta,  her  niece,  with 
her  nurse  first  and  the  latest  one  our  own 
"Ernesta."  When  Ernesta  entered  the  gallery 
where  she  hangs  in  the  museum,  her  person- 
ality asserted  itself  at  once.  She  softened 
and  harmonised  and  adjusted  her  surround- 
ings, drawing  all  eyes  to  herself  yet  em- 
phasising the  beauty  around  her.  She  is 
lovely  in  her  simplicity — alert  and  eager  for 
life,  yet  with  a  poise  of  manner  that  brooks  no 
liberties.  This  picture  belongs  in  every  girl's 
school  in  America.  It  stands  as  an  incentive 
to  simplicity  in  dress,  reserve,  eagerness  for 
the  good  things  of  life,  and  girlishness  in 
manner.  To  say  that  the  work  is  superb  is  to 
reiterate  that  Miss  Beaux  is  a  master-painter 
and  that  her  pictures  are  masterpieces. 

''A  New  England  Woman"  (Fig.  157),  by 
Miss  Beaux,  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts,  Philadelphia,  one  of  the  paintings  ex- 
hibited at  the  Paris  Salon  in  1896,  took  the 
French  people  by  storm.  In  acknowledgment 
of  her  talents  she  was  given  the  honour  of 
associate  membership  in  the  Societe  Nationale 
des  Beaux  Arts  and  four  years  later,  after 
exhibiting  in  the  Paris  Exhibition,  she  was 


2o6       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


selected  an  associataire,  a  rare  honour  for  a 
woman.  Miss  Beaux  inevitably  keeps  in  close 
sympathy  with  her  sitters — she  is  not  repre- 
senting a  type  but  a  particular  person.  The 
article  ^'a"  gives  exactly  the  idea,  for  though 
no  name  is  given  we  feel  that  the  New  Eng- 
land Woman  is  some  one  the  artist  knew,  and 
she  has  made  us  know  her  too.  There  is  much 
that  is  New  England,  however,  in  this  special 
woman.  She  may  not  live  in  the  Eastern 
States  but  she  has  the  air  that  marks  the  de- 
scendants of  Puritan  blood.  This  portrait  be- 
longs to  the  earlier  years  of  the  artist's  work 
when  she  often  made  her  pictures  studies  in 
white,  black  and  grey — and  she  does  now,  for 
that  matter.  These  studies  show  just  the 
intimate  quality  that  portrays  character.  This 
woman's  habit  was  white;  she  decked  herself, 
her  chair,  her  bed,  her  stand,  her  doorway  in 
white  because  white  suited  her.  The  touches 
of  colour  that  peep  out  at  us  are  like  flashes  of 
humour  that  come  unexpectedly  in  the  conver- 
sation. 

In  the  picture  of  the  "Mother  and  Child'' 
(Fig.  158),  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.,  Charles  W.  Hawthorne  is  at  his  best. 
The  young  woman  is  a  beautiful  type  of 
motherhood.  The  mystery  of  a  new  Hfe  lies 
in  the  depths  of  those  wide-open  eyes,  yet  she 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  207 


scarcely  comprehends  its  meaning.  She  feels 
the  pride  of  possession  as  never  before,  for  a 
great  responsibility  is  knocking  at  her  heart; 
the  faint  smile  of  ownership  is  giving  place 
to  the  awe  that  comes  when  the  young  mother 
first  recognises  that  the  child  is  her  very  own. 
How  lovely  is  the  wealth  of  midnight  hair  that 
like  an  aureola  frames  her  face  and  how  the 
tender  colour  of  her  robe  emphasises  the  warm 
flesh  and  draws  us  very  close  to  her !  We  love 
the  baby. 

Probably  nothing  that  Mr.  Hawthorne  has 
done  in  the  past  or  will  do  in  the  future  will 
live  more  truly  as  a  masterpiece  than  "The 
Trousseau"  (Fig.  159),  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art.  The  young  girl  is  the  embodiment  of 
innocent  wonder  as  to  what  the  future  means. 
She  sees  a  mysterious  land — a  land  filled  with 
perplexing  questions.  She  is  to  enter  this  land 
with  the  man  she  loves,  and  she  trusts  him.  It 
is  a  solemn  journey.  The  mother  feels  the  re- 
sponsibility of  it,  for  she  knows;  the  daughter, 
dimly  conscious,  trusts. 

Mr.  Hawthorne  has  the  rare  quality  of  pleas- 
ing the  public  without  lowering  his  standards. 
He  makes  us  feel  the  intrinsic  worth  of  his 
people;  they  have  like  passions  with  us.  One 
needs  but  watch  the  visitors  stop  before  the 
painting  of  "The  Trousseau"  to  understand 


2o8       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


that  the  pubic  does  appreciate  the  best  in  art. 
If  Mr.  Hawthorne  is  a  "painter  for  the  love 
of  painting"  he  certainly  paints  many  pictures 
that  we  all  love. 

There  are  little  personal  incidents  connected 
with  Mr.  Hawthorne's  young  days  as  an  artist 
that  endear  him  to  us  and  help  us  to  better  un- 
derstand his  perception  of  the  inner  life  of  his 
sitters.  One  of  these  incidents  had  to  do  with 
his  practice  days  at  Shinnecock  where  Mr. 
William  M.  Chase  was  conducting  his  famous 
criticisms  before  a  large  and  admiring  class  of 
students.  Mr.  Hawthorne's  enthusiasm  for 
his  chosen  work  was  great,  though  he  was  not 
among  the  privileged  ones  to  attend  the  dis- 
tinguished teacher's  classes.  One  day,  how- 
ever, he  was  sketching  on  the  beach  when  Mr. 
Chase  came  swinging  along.  Not  specially 
noticing  young  Hawthorne,  but  possibly  think- 
ing him  one  of  his  own  students,  he  stopped 
and  looking  closely  at  the  sketch,  asked: 

"Young  man,  why  don't  you  come  to  my 
criticisms?"  Mr.  Hawthorne  hesitated,  prob- 
ably not  wishing  to  give  the  real  reason,  but 
Mr.  Chase,  in  his  quick  nervous  manner, 
added : 

"Come  to  the  next  one,"  and  walked  on. 
This  was  the  desire  of  young  Hawthorne's 
heart.    The  Chase  students  soon  understood 


Fig.  161 — Moiniug  Bath.    Cassatt.    Courtesy  of  the  Metropohtan  Museum 

of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  209 

the  state  of  affairs  and  brought  young  Haw- 
thorne to  the  next  day's  criticism  with  his 
picture.  He  chose  his  seat  in  the  corner  on 
the  topmost  tier  of  benches,  and  looked  down 
on  the  assembled  students  and  the  great 
teacher.  It  was  Mr.  Chase's  habit  to  put  a 
canvas  on  the  easel  and  call  out,  "Whose 
picture  is  this?"  The  owner  would  stand  up 
and  then  the  criticism  was  given.  On  this  day 
everything  proceeded  as  usual  until  Mr.  Chase 
put  a  special  picture  on  the  easel;  instead  of 
asking  the  usual  question,  he  turned  and  faced 
the  corner  where  Mr.  Hawthorne  sat.  Rais- 
ing his  finger  and  pointing  straight  at  him,  he 
said: 

"Young  man,  you'll  be  a  painter !"  It  was 
several  minutes  before  the  enthusiastic  stu- 
dents were  ready  for  the  next  criticism. 

Mr.  Hawthorne  was  a  pupil  of  Mr.  Chase 
and,  like  his  master,  is  now  an  art  teacher  him- 
self— one  of  the  most  noted  in  America.  He 
has  a  home  in  Provincetown,  Cape  Cod,  Mass. 
Mr.  Hawthorne  was  born  in  Maine  in  1872. 

Possibly  no  American  artist  was  more  di- 
rectly moulded  artistically  by  Manet,  the 
French  impressionist,  than  Miss  Mary  Cassatt. 
But  Manet's  moulding  changed  not  one  whit 
the  native  talent  of  the  young  painter.  She 
simply  responded  to  the  seeking  for  essentials 


2IO       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


and  when  that  idea  was  firmly  grasped,  to- 
gether with  the  austerity  of  Degas,  she  began 
her  work-  as  a  free  agent  in  art,  and  is  con- 
tinuing her  career  as  such. 

No  one  for  a  moment  would  accuse  Miss 
Cassatt  of  being  an  imitator  after  looking  at 
her  "Mother  and  Child"  (Fig.  i6o)  painted  in 
1904.  Neither  is  she  any  less  an  American 
because  they  are  French  in  a  French  park. 
Over  and  over  again  she  pictures  a  mother  and 
her  child — the  child  a  good,  wholesome  prod- 
uct of  nature  with  every  function  in  working 
condition  and  the  mother  alive  to  the  needs  of 
a  healthy,  growing  young  human  animal. 

We  are  conscious  that  Miss  Cassatt  has 
gained  a  certain  independence  with  the  passing 
years  as  we  compare  the  "Morning  Bath 
(Mother  and  Child),''  in  the  Metropolitan  Mu- 
seum of  Art  (Fig.  161),  painted  the  last  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  with  the  mother  and  child 
above.  In  the  "Morning  Bath"  her  modelling 
is  harder  and  the  colour  harsher.  But  how 
well  the  sturdy  little  body,  firm  in  its  elasticity, 
shows  the  active  power  of  growing  muscles! 
See  how  the  little  fingers  grasp  the  mother's 
gown  and  the  toes  stretch  with  the  compelling 
force  of  growth.  Fortunately,  time  is  toning 
the  vivid  green  background  and  rather  cold  sur- 
roundings into  a  delightful  cosy  corner  of  the 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  211 


nursery  where  centres  the  life  of  the  mother 
and  her  child.  One  of  the  strong  points,  and 
there  are  very  many  of  them,  in  Miss  Cassatfs 
paintings,  is  the  ripening  quality  which  de- 
velops with  time. 

The  artist's  mastery  in  the  technic  of  art  and 
her  courage  in  working  out  her  own  problems 
in  her  pictures  have  given  her  a  place  of  hon- 
our among  artists.  Although  she  persistently 
keeps  motherhood  before  us,  yet  her  reiteration 
never  for  one  moment  bores  us,  for  each  group 
is  individual.  The  personality  of  the  mother  is 
always  distinct  and  the  colour  and  handling 
are  ever  adapted  to  the  particular  mother  and 
the  special  child — every  baby  has  its  own  per- 
sonal magnetism  and  is  not  "just  a  baby  like  all 
others,"  Miss  Cassatt  understands  so  thor- 
oughly the  muscular  development  of  the  grow- 
ing child  that  her  various  pictures  might  well 
be  adopted  as  models  in  the  physical  develop- 
ment of  children.  Then  again  look  at  the 
wholesome  attitude  of  the  mothers  as  she  pic- 
tures them.  How  sane  they  are  in  instinctive 
tenderness  and  solicitude — a  beautiful  re- 
minder that  motherhood,  coeval  with  the  begin- 
nings of  the  race,  demands  the  use  of  mother- 
hood function! 

Miss  Cassatt  is  a  native  of  Pittsburgh,  Pa., 
and  has  her  home  in  France.  We  much  regret 


212       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


that  our  young  American  mothers  are  not  be- 
ing  immortalised  by  her  brush,  for  we  need  her 
honest,  truth-seeking  eyes  and  her  courage  to 
picture  for  them  the  duty  and  joy  of  American 
motherhood.  Mr.  Melchers  says:  ''Mary 
Cassatt,  ah,  there  is  a  great  artist!  She  is  a 
brilliant,  intellectual  woman,  and  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  American  women  painters.  I  ad- 
mire her  and  her  work  extremely." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


GROLL— WILLIAMS— GENTH— LIE— 
KROLL 

TN  no  country  has  nature  specialised  more 
efficiently  than  in  the  United  States.  Be- 
tween the  glaciers  of  Alaska  and  the  ever- 
glades of  Florida  she  has  wrought  natural  won- 
ders and  emphasised  abundance  and  sterility 
of  the  nth  power.  Not  often,  however,  have 
our  artists  sought  out  the  unusual — unusual 
only  because  of  our  ignorance — for  subjects  of 
their  art.  So  it  is  with  peculiar  interest  that 
we  enjoy  the  ^'Silver  Clouds,  Arizona"  (Fig. 
162),  by  Albert  L.  Groll  (1866).  Until  Mr. 
Groll  began  to  picture  Arizona,  under  the 
varying  conditions  of  wind  and  weather,  we 
have  never  realised  the  artistic  possibilities  of 
the  desert  lands  of  that  marvellous  state. 

The  broad,  low  country,  with  its  sage  brush, 
bunch  grass  and  cacti  clinging  close  to  the  arid 
yellow  soil,  stretches  away  to  the  horizon  and 
over  it  hovers  a  sky  full  of  silvery  clouds,  mak- 
ing a  never-to-be-forgotten  picture.  Deserts 

213 


214       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

these  plateaus  certainly  are  until  man  comes 
with  his  irrigating  plant,  then  "the  desert  shall 
blossom  like  the  rose/'  Mr.  GroU  never  makes 
a  hopeless  desert  out  of  his  Arizona  scenes. 
No,  he  gives  an  undertone  of  gold  and  silver 
that  sparkles  and  shimmers  on  bush  and  sand 
and  cloud,  suggesting  boundless  wealth.  We 
feel  that  these  desert  scenes  are  as  truly  God's 
great  out-of-doors  as  the  mountains  and  the 
fruitful  valleys. 

Mr.  Groll,  born  in  New  York  City,  where 
he  now  lives,  was  largely  trained  in  Munich. 
He  is  represented  in  many  of  our  large  gal- 
leries and  has  been  recognised  by  honourable 
mention,  medals  and  prizes  in  America  and 
Europe. 

Three  hundred  years  ago  Nicholas  Poussin 
painted  landscapes  largely  as  settings  for  his 
classical  figures,  and  to-day  our  American  idyl- 
lists  are  showing  much  the  same  spirit.  Having 
the  advantage,  however,  of  three  centuries  of 
training  in  landscape  painting,  they  are  evolv- 
ing pictures  so  full  of  the  joy  of  living  that 
they  seem  all  but  true  to  life.  Nothing  could 
be  more  ideally  beautiful  as  a  piece  of  decora- 
tion than  Frederick  Ballard  Williams'  "Sum- 
mer" (Fig.  163).  Never  were  shades  of  colour 
more  exquisite — flesh  and  gowns,  lapping  tide 
and  floating  clouds,  rocks  and  mosses  blend  as 


Fig.  163— i 


■Summer.     Williams.     Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  GaiUny, 
New  York  City. 


Fig.  164 — Woodland  Pool.    Genth.    Courtesy  of  the  Memorial  Art  Gallery, 

Rochester. 


AND  fTHElR  PAINTERS  215 


harmoniously  as  instruments  in  an  orchestra. 
Mr.  WilHams  is  sounding  a  note,  with  his 
Venetian  figures  set  in  a  modern  landscape, 
that  is  decidedly  attractive  to  the  lay  public. 
They  probably  do  lack  the  rugged  strength  of 
the  insurgents  who  are  crowding  out  the  weak- 
lings, but  they  hold  their  own  and  sweeten  art 
with  their  charm. 

Surely  a  fairy  has  touched  Miss  Lillian 
Genth  with  its  magic  wand  and  then  trans- 
ported her  to  some  woodland  dell  where  only 
fairies  dwell.  Not  that  this  "Woodland  Pool" 
(Fig.  164),  Memorial  Art  Gallery,  Rochester, 
N.  Y.,  cannot  be  found  on  this  old  earth 
of  ours,  but  it  has  taken  Miss  Genth,  with  her 
'Vital,  optimistic,  stimulating"  art,  to  find  it 
for  us.  Over  and  over  she  draws  us  aside 
from  the  work-a-day  world  into  lovely  wood- 
land retreats  and  there  quiets  and  soothes  our 
overheated  brains.  Her  nude  figures,  breath- 
ing a  wholesome  sane  joy,  are  as  much  a  part 
of  the  secluded  dell  as  the  trees,  the  pool  and 
the  sky.  How  empty  this  retreat  would  be 
without  the  warmth  of  the  lovely  vision  in  the 
flesh!  The  light  playing  upon  the  healthy 
form  is  like  the  wind  playing  upon  the  swaying 
branches. 

When  Miss  Genth  firt  posed  a  nude  figure 
out-of-doors  in  Brittany,  and  the  light  played 


2i6       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


over  the  pink-tinted  surface,  she  found  the 
key  that  unlocks  a  new  world  to  us.  And  later, 
under  the  brilliant  American  light,  she  fitted 
her  key  and  unlocked  the  secret  of  sunlight 
playing  upon  vital  human  flesh.  Her  figures 
in  the  open  and  beside  the  waters  and  under 
the  spreading  branches  have  assumed  the  char- 
acter of  an  autograph  and,  like  the  latter,  can 
never  grow  monotonous  to  those  who  love 
them.  Miss  Genth  is  already  represented  in 
many  of  our  public  museums. 

One  of  the  younger  artists  of  to-day  who 
has  struck  an  original  note  is  Jonas  Lie 
(1880).  He  is  original  not  so  much  in  the 
choice  of  subjects,  for  others  have  used  much 
the  same,  but  in  his  manner  of  treatment.  We 
have  again  an  artist  who  sees  the  poetry  of 
labour,  but  he  sees  it  f  ron  an  angle  all  his  own. 
At  first  we  might  think  his  individuality  is  due 
to  the  section  of  the  country  he  has  chosen — he 
has  painted  many  pictures  of  the  Panama  Canal 
section — but  in  the  "Morning  on  the  River" 
(Fig.  165),  Memorial  Art  Gallery,  Rochester, 
the  same  personal  note  is  there.  The  sense  of 
depth  and  height  in  both  the  ''Morning  on  the 
River"  and  the  "Culebra  Cut,"  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art,  is  that  of  strength  and  dura- 
bility and  also  emphasises  the  power  of  man's 
mind  to  overcome  great  natural  obstacles. 


o.  IGG — The  Conquerors.    Lie.    Courtesy  of  the  MetropoHtan  Museum 

of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  217 

Now  look  at  "The  Conquerors''  (Fig. 
166)  as  the  Culebra  Cut  is  often  called, 
and  see  how  the  bigness  of  the  idea  has 
gripped  the  artist.  He  thinks  big  artistic 
problems  and,  unafraid,  places  those  prob- 
lems before  us.  Height  and  depth  lose  noth- 
ing of  their  mystery,  nothing  of  their  im- 
pelling force,  and  yet  both  are  brought  un- 
der the  dominating  power  of  man  and  both  are 
compelled  to  yield  and  become  servants  in  his 
hands.  The  marvellous  steel-blue  atmosphere 
binds  and  rivets  into  perfect  symmetry  the  stu- 
pendous problem.  Nothing  seems  insignificant. 
The  cars  moving  in  the  depth  of  the  cut,  the 
men  toiling  up  the  grade,  the  cranes  lifting  the 
loosened  dirt  are  all  significant  and  necessary 
parts  of  the  great  scheme. 

Mr.  Lie  saw  not  only  the  possibility  of  per- 
pendicular lines  in  his  days  with  the  sky- 
scraper and  Brooklyn  Bridge,  but  his  artistic 
skill  grew  with  his  expanded  vision.  Not  al- 
ways do  our  artists  keep  pace  in  their  means 
of  expression  with  the  extended  visions  of 
country  and  development.  Too  often  bombast 
kills  where  simplicity  would  have  lived.  Mr. 
Lie's  keen  sense  of  the  essentials  of  big  things 
is  the  quality  that  holds  us.  His  perfect  mastery 
of  the  thing  he  is  representing  compels  our  at- 
tention and  appeals  to  our  understanding.  Not 


2i8       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


that  our  3esthetic  sense  is  unstirred,  far  from 
it.  Who  can  stand  before  Culebra  Cut  and  not 
feel  a  glow  of  pleasure  in  the  harmony  of  col- 
our and  line  and  in  the  feeling  of  being  in- 
itiated into  the  big  things  of  Hfe?  Surely  Jonas 
Lie  has  a  message  and  a  vision  that  are  true 
and  noble. 

There  is  a  wonderful  charm  in  his  straight 
lines — they  give  such  stability  to  his  composi- 
tions, and  the  strange  glamour  of  light  and 
shade  and  steel-blue  colour  grips  us  like  steel 
girders.  We  feel  almost  under  the  power 
of  some  titanic  monster,  only  that  the  pale 
light  creeping  in  lifts  us  as  it  follows  the 
straight  columns  of  smoke  reaching  skyward 
and  glints  the  scuttling  clouds  with  ever-vary- 
ing tints.  The  artist's  early  training  under 
Brooklyn  Bridge  and  beneath  skyscrapers  has 
given  him  an  astonishing  insight  into  the  artis- 
tic value  of  vertical  lines. 

Mr.  Lie's  pictures  are  found  in  many  of  the 
galleries  over  the  country.  In  fact,  the  public 
is  recognising  that  Mr.  Lie  has  come  to  stay. 
He  was  born  in  Norway,  but  most  of  his  train- 
ing was  gained  in  the  National  Academy  of 
Design  and  Arts  Students'  League  in  New 
York  City. 

Albert  Leon  Kroll  is  recording  big  achieve- 
ments in  the  mechanical  world,  and  his  records 


! 


Fig.  IGS— The  River  Front.  Kroll. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  219 


are  not  simply  of  material  building.  Into 
''Building  New  York''  (Fig.  167)  has  entered 
the  soul  of  the  builder  as  well  as  his  brain. 
Mr.  KroU  has  a  vision  of  big  things  and  also 
the  power  to  visualise  on  canvas  commensurate 
with  the  bigness  of  his  theme.  One  cannot 
look  long  at  ''Building  New  York"  without 
feeling  the  sense  of  elation.  He  lifts  one  into 
loftier  conceptions,  not  because  of  the  height 
of  the  structure,  but  because  the  lines  lead  sky- 
ward. The  labourers  are  not  necessarily 
earth-bound,  for  the  placing  of  every  stone 
and  brick  and  iron  girder  is  a  necessary  link 
in  the  completed  building.  Their  skill  alone  has 
made  possible  the  realisation  of  the  architect's 
vision. 

Mr.  Kroll,  with  strong,  vigorous  brush- 
strokes, is  giving  a  solidity  and  worthwhileness 
to  his  construction-pictures  that  stand  for  bet- 
ter things  in  the  world  of  labour.  The  "River 
Front"  (Fig.  168)  has  the  smell  of  fishing 
smacks,  steam  tugs,  river  barges,  warehouses 
and  long-shore's  men  true  to  the  activities  of 
any  waterfront.  Interesting?  Of  course  it  is! 
Life  among  these  rough,  raw  materials  is  re- 
duced to  the  simplest  elements,  and  Mr.  Kroll 
knows  how  to  represent  the  strong,  firm  es- 
sentials of  life. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


DAVIES—BOHM—FRIESEKE— MILLER— 
MacCAMERON— MORA 

^[7E  realise  that  our  painters  whose  inde- 
pendence in  methods  of  painting — which 
may  or  may  not  please  us — are  yet  too  close 
for  the  public  to  gain  a  proper  sense  of  propor- 
tion as  to  their  work.  That  any  art,  be  it  lit- 
erature, music,  sculpture,  or  painting,  is  kept 
up  to  the  proper  standard  of  excellence  by  a 
certain  infusion  of  new  ideals,  is  self-evident, 
but  just  how  far  those  new  ideals  are  to  be 
permanent  acquisitions  is  a  question  settled  by 
time.  Millet  used  to  say:  *'Art  is  a  language 
and  all  language  is  intended  for  the  expres- 
sion of  ideas.''  And  again  he  said:  "The 
artist's  first  task  is  to  find  an  arrangement 
that  will  give  full  and  striking  expression  to 
his  ideas,"  and  to  these  tenets  he  added  the 
scathing  criticism:  ''To  have  painted  things 
that  mean  nothing  is  to  have  borne  no  fruit." 

When  Arthur  P.  Davies  (1862)  painted  "A 
Dream"  (Fig.  169),  Metropolitan  Museum  of 

220 


Fig.  170— Mother  and  Child.    Bohm.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  221 


Art,  he  gave  a  picture  of  his  mental  vision  ex- 
quisite in  composition  and  in  spiritual  signifi- 
cance. The  motive  is  taken  from  Meredith's 
''Huntress  of  things  worth  pursuit  of  souls; 
in  our  naming,  dreams."  Surely  the  author 
himself  could  scarcely  have  imagined  so  subtle 
an  interpretation  of  the  thought  he  had  in 
mind.  The  young  woman,  eagerly  pressing 
forward,  whither?  "In  a  dream,  in  a  vision 
of  the  night.  .  .  .  Then  he  openeth  the  ears  of 
men  and  sealeth  their  instruction."  She  shows 
no  hesitancy  in  following  her  instructions. 
As  pure  as  the  moonbeams  she  glides  over 
the  water  up  the  height  into  the  beyond  and 
we  watch  as  one  detached,  striving  to  join  our 
souls  to  hers. 

Not  always,  however,  do  Mr.  Davies'  crea- 
tions find  a  response  in  our  hearts.  Dare  we 
wonder  if  his  own  visions  are  as  clear  as  of  old, 
or  are  we  at  fault?  Naturally  a  romantic 
painter  is  only  remotely  connected  with  things 
of  real  life,  yet  we  all  have  dreams  and  visions 
of  the  night  and  are  ever  eager  with  our  sym- 
pathy to  welcome  a  dreamer  who  has  the  gift 
of  visualising  creations  of  the  brain — whole- 
some fancies  are  invigourating  and  helpful. 

If  the  purpose  of  a  picture  is  to  give  the  un- 
derlying sentiment  that  justifies  the  picture's 
existence  then  Max  Bohm  (1868)  has  sue- 


222        AMERICAN  PICTURES 


ceeded  in  the  ^'Mother  and  Child''  (Fig.  170)". 
Strong?  Of  course  it  is.  The  mother  instinct; 
and  child-recognition  are  compellingly  beauti- 
ful. The  sentiment  is  that  of  elemental  beings 
on  the  shores  of  the  primeval  sea.  Strength 
of  line,  of  colour,  of  composition,  are  splendid 
principles.  Michael  Angelo  proved  them  long 
ago  and  he  also  demonstrated  the  necessity  of 
pleasing  details.  Even  in  the  awful  'Xast 
Judgment"  the  condemning  Christ  is  softened 
by  the  gentle,  pleading  mother  by  his  side. 

Mr.  Bohm,  born  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  had 
most  of  his  training  in  Paris,  where  he  now 
lives.  He  was  a  member  of  the  European 
Advisory  Committee  for  the  Panama  Pacific 
Exposition,  in  191 5. 

Stepping  into  a  room  of  Frederick  Carl 
Frieseke's  pictures,  one  feels  that  a  curtain  has 
suddenly  been  drawn  and  a  burst  of  sunlight 
let  in.  At  first  one  involuntarily  shades  the 
eyes.  And  why  not?  Look  at  ''Summer" 
(Fig.  171).  Was  ever  light  brighter?  Even 
with  her  hat  tipped  over  her  face  the  woman 
squints  her  eyes  from  the  glare. 

Picture  after  picture  calls  to  mind  sunlit 
verandas,  old-fashioned  gardens  of  hollyhocks 
and  pinks  flooded  with  light;  morning  rooms 
open  to  the  sun  and  late  afternoon  with  every- 
thing quivering  in  the  long,  lingering  rays  of 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  223 


a  power  spent.  And  colour?  a  perfect  riot 
of  colour  so  bewitched  under  the  glare  of  light 
that  one  simply  feels  it  without  trying  to  de- 
fine the  quality. 

In  "The  Hammock"  (Fig.  172)  the  sun  has 
bewitched  us  again.  We  do  not  agree  that  ''It's 
because  his  work  is  'classy/  "  as  one  of  the 
members  of  the  awarding  committee  at  Chi- 
cago stated,  that  he  is  attracting  the  public, 
but  because  he  is  giving  a  new  interpretation 
of  the  effect  of  direct  sunlight.  We  look  out 
upon  a  sunlit  garden  or  into  a  veranda  with 
the  afternoon  sun  flooding  in  and  have  a  feel- 
ing of  exuberance,  possibly  of  excessive  light 
that  hurts  our  eyes.  Now  when  an  artist  has 
the  power  of  awakening  sensations  similar  to 
those  that  nature  produces  through  the  skilful 
manipulation  of  his  mediums  he  certainly  has 
earned  more  than  "classy"  excellences  to  dis- 
tinguish his  work.  Surely  Mr.  Frieseke  has 
achieved  great  success  in  harnessing  the  sun's 
direct  light  to  canvas  and  in  doing  so  has  given 
us  joy.  The  palpitating  light  playing  over  the 
mother  and  child  in  the  hammock  is  full  of  vital 
force ;  it  is  recreating  in  its  healing  qualities. 

Then  the  picture  quality  is  convincing  in  the 
joyous  colour,  illusive  yet  persistent;  the  note 
of  bodily  comfort  in  the  limp  form,  the  pushed 
aside  empty  tea  cup  and  the  swing  hammock 


224       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

all  are  things  long  to  be  remembered.  Unfor- 
tunately drawing  is  not  always  a  strong  point 
with  Mr.  Frieseke,  but  the  artistic  charm 
of  personality  is  there.  The  artist  is  present- 
ing daily  scenes  from  a  new  standpoint  with 
his  angle  of  vision  wholesome  and  pleasing  if 
at  times  a  little  dazzling.  We  all  welcome  new 
visions  even  when  they  come  from  impossible 
probabilities ;  it  is  when  improbable  possibilities 
are  forced  on  us  that  we  rebel. 

Mr.  Frieseke  was  born  in  Owosso,  Mich., 
in  1874,  and  until  the  European  upheaval  made 
his  home  in  Paris.  He  was  awarded  the  Grand 
Prize  at  the  Panama  Pacific  Exposition 
(1915),  the  highest  honour  in  the  power  of  the 
international  jurors  to  give. 

Richard  E.  Miller  (1875),  born  in  St.  Louis, 
also  lived  in  Paris.  Possibly  no  two  of  our 
modern  men  treat  light  and  colour  so  similarly 
as  Mr.  Miller  and  Mr.  Frieseke.  To  define 
how  they  differ  would  mean  to  define  the  tem- 
peramental traits  of  each.  They  are  telling  the 
same  story  of  the  joy  and  gaiety  of  colour  and 
light,  yet  each  tells  it  his  own  distinctive  way. 
When  once  that  way  is  recognised  then,  like  dis- 
tinctive traits  of  twins,  they  easily  stand  apart 
as  individual  in  method. 

In  'mrning  Sunlight'^  (Fig.  173)  Mr.  Mil- 
ler defines  the  sun  parlour  in  a  most  convinc- 


Fig.  173— Morning  Sunlight.    Miller.    Courtesy  of  the  Macucth  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  225 


ing  manner.  While  we  recognise  that  the  peo- 
ple in  these  pictures  are  admirable  objects  for 
displaying  colour  and  light,  we  assert  that  the 
picture  would  be  uninteresting  without  these 
human  personalities.  This  young  woman  in 
kimono  and  fluffy  skirt  is  just  the  type  to  en- 
joy arranging  flowers  in  the  early  morning 
hour  with  the  sun  flooding  everything. 

In  "Gold  Fish"  (Fig.  174)  Mr.  Miller  in- 
terests us  in  the  child  as  well  as  in  the  lovely 
light  and  colour  of  the  picture.  The  human 
warmth  is  as  caressing  as  is  the  delicious  air 
coming  through  the  open  French  windows. 

Now  turn  to  the  ''New  Orleans  Negro," 
another  child  of  the  sun  (Fig.  175),  Memorial 
Art  Gallery,  Rochester,  N.  Y.  To  those 
who  know  the  coloured  people  in  the  southland 
this  portrait  speaks  volumes.  Robert  Mac- 
Cameron  (1866)  has  delved  deep  into  race 
characteristics  and  with  unerring  skill  has  pic- 
tured a  composite  negro,  perfectly  individual, 
yet  answering  to  the  name  of  John  or  James. 
He  notes  not  only  the  flat  nose,  the  thick  open 
lips  and  white  teeth,  the  half  sleepy  sensuous 
eyes  and  stocky  neck,  but  the  poise  of  the  bullet 
head  with  its  tendency  to  tip  backward.  Who 
has  not  seen  this  identical  negro  slouching 
along  the  street  ready  to  guffaw  at  the  slightest 
provocation?    Good-natured  to  excess  when 


226       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

controlled  and  unprovoked,  but  sinister  and 
unreasoning  when  once  aroused  is  written  on 
every  feature.  This  is  one  of  Mr.  MacCam- 
eron's  earlier  pictures,  yet  in  it  he  shows  the 
keen  insight  into  the  underlying  principles 
governing  human  beings  that  characterised 
his  later  works.  The  marvellous  portrait  of 
Auguste  Rodin  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art  is  sufficient  proof  of  the  artist's  power 
to  make  individuals  live  on  canvas.  We  feel 
the  personality  of  the  great  French  sculptor 
and  realise  that  a  master  has  made  him  live 
before  us.  We  regret  exceedingly  that  an 
artist  who  grasped  the  elemental  truths  as  did 
Mr.  MacCameron  could  not  have  lived  the  full 
number  of  years.   He  died  in  1912. 

Mr.  F.  Lewis  Mora  (1874),  a  native  of 
Montevideo,  Uruguay,  was  a  pupil  of  Mr. 
Benson  and  Mr.  Tarbell  in  the  Boston  Art 
School.  Mr.  Mora  is  often  decidedly  inde- 
pendent in  his  choice  of  subjects,  and  some- 
times the  subjects  are  even  fantastic.  A  recent 
exhibition  displayed  his  ''Fantasy  of  Goya,'' 
certainly  an  interesting  departure  from  the 
usual.  We  could  easily  imagine  Goya — to 
whom  we  render  homage  as  a  master — re- 
calling similar  episodes  from  his  early  life. 
Mr.  Mora  has  composed  most  cleverly  the  fleet- 
ing visions  without  detracting  from  our  in- 


Fig.  176— Flowers  of  the  Fields.     Mora.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth 
Gallery,  New  York  City. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  227 


terest  of  the  artist  himself.  Surely  Goya  has 
reaped  the  whirlwind  physically,  as  he  did  in 
real  life;  or  do  we  imagine  we  see  it  in  the 
impelling  figure  of  the  old  artist? 

Of  an  entirely  different  character  is  Mr. 
Mora's  "Flowers  of  the  Field"  (Fig.  176). 
The  smell  of  sweet  grasses,  clover  blossoms 
and  daisy  fields  still  lingers  in  the  flowers  and 
around  the  young  girls.  This  is  a  wholesome 
picture  full  of  the  quiet  joy  of  young  girlhood. 
It  says  to  all  alike: 

'Gather,  then,  each  flower  that  grows, 
When  the  young  heart  overflows." 


CHAPTER  XXV 


BELLOWS— LUKS—NOURSE—BEAL— 
McLEAN 

\;i7HEN  George  Bellows  painted  ''Anne/' 
Art  Institute,  Chicago  (Fig.  177),  he 
left  no  doubt  about  a  child's  personality. 
That  child  will  live  as  does  Little  Nell  and 
Rose  of  Lyme  Regis.  She  is  distinctive 
among  her  friends  or  non-friends  because 
she  is,  Mr.  Bellows  is  representing  life. 
He  may  not  see  it  from  our  angle — at  times  his 
angle  of  vision  is  displeasing,  which,  however, 
is  a  matter  of  personal  likes  or  prejudice  if 
you  please,  yet  he  sees  life  in  the  living;  and 
when  his  transcriptions  are  full  of  wholesome 
sentiment  (not  sentimentality,  as  in  the  "Saw- 
dust Trair*)  he  is  making  pictures  for  all  time. 
Take  the  "Cliff  Dwellers,''  for  instance,  where 
the  people  who  live  among  the  skyscrapers  are 
seen  scurrying  hither  and  thither,  each  intent 
on  a  particular  pursuit  or  contentedly  doing 
nothing,  and  the  whole  expressed  in  delicious 
colour  notes  and  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere 
of  joy  and  hope.  What  could  give  greater  sat- 

228 


Fig.  177 — Anae.    Bellows.    Courtesy  of  the  Carnegie  Institute,  Chicago. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  229 

isfaction  in  the  pictorial  qualities  of  decora- 
tion and  helpful  sentiment? 

George  Bellows  was  born  in  Columbus, 
Ohio,  in  1882,  and  lives  in  New  York  City.  He 
was  a  pupil  of  Robert  Henri  and  is  now  de- 
veloping along  lines  under  his  own  artistic 
guidance. 

A  word  of  caution  is  not  to  be  despised  by 
the  young  artists  who  are  making  history  in 
the  art  world  to-day.  Remember  that  ''to 
make  out  of  a  fine  art  a  fad  is  not  inherently 
the  gift  of  a  heart  artist.''  The  arts — poetry, 
music,  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting- 
are  the  great  purifying  influences  'of  man- 
kind, and  one  born  with  genius  for  one  of 
these  is  inspired  of  God  for  a  great  work. 

If  ever  an  artist  had  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  subjects  at  his  very  window  ledge  in  all 
seasons,  at  all  times  of  day  and  night,  with 
people  of  all  grades,  it  is  George  Luks  at 
Jumel  Place,  Edgecomb  Road,  New  York  City. 
"Evening''  (Fig.  178)  is  one  of  scores  of  the 
pictures  posed  for  him  just  across  the  road 
from  his  studio.  Mr.  Luks  is  a  true  naturalist 
for,  accepting  the  wind-sown  forest  as  the  only 
really  artistic  grouping  of  trees,  he  catches  his 
children  and  mothers  and  grandmothers  on 
the  fly  and  avoids  the  artificial  pose.  What  a 
glorious  scene  it  is!   The  sun  lingers  to  kiss 


230       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

every  hair,  every  dimple  and  every  wrinkle  as 
if  loathe  to  leave  a  group  so  full  of  the  joy  of 
life.  Those  little  ones  are  the  backbone  of 
our  great  republic.  Mr.  Luks,  in  strong,  simple 
lines  and  beautiful  colour,  certainly  is  solving 
the  problem  of  better  babies. 

No  two  children  ever  were  any  more  be- 
witching than  "Annie  and  Dora"  (Fig.  179). 
They  captivate  us,  yet  I  doubt  our  power  to 
win  them  unless  we  are  absolutely  sincere  in 
our  advances.  Little  waifs,  who  are  you?  and 
where  do  you  come  from?  Murillo's  beggar 
boys  were  never  happier  in  the  sunny  south- 
land than  are  you  in  the  storm-threatening, 
changeable  New  York  City  winter.  Your 
clothes  are  the  cast-offs  of  some  poor  little  rich 
girls  and  your  umbrella  probably  was  the  sport 
of  the  wind,  but  what  care  you?  You  are 
nourished  under  excitement  and  variety,  and  a 
picture-man  is  only  an  added  drop  to  your  cup 
of  happiness.  Mr.  Luks,  we  bid  you  ''God 
speed''  in  catching  such  waifs — your  pictures 
of  those  bright,  joyous  creatures  of  nature 
will  live  so  long  as  there  are  human  hearts 
to  love  them. 

Miss  Elizabeth  Nourse  lives  in  Paris  and, 
following  much  the  same  lines  as  Miss  Cas- 
satt,  paints  mothers  and  nurses  and  children, 
making  them  tangible  realities.   We,  too,  feel 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  231 

the  sobs  of  the  hurt  child  in  '^Consolation" 
(Fig.  180)  and  can  almost  hear  the  crooning 
tone  of  the  mother  as  she  comforts  the  little 
one.  Miss  Nourse  is  specially  sensitive  to  the 
mothering  instinct,  strong  in  the  heart  of  most 
women,  and  in  direct  simple  lines  she  makes 
her  appeal  to  us.  We  would  stop — of  course 
we  would — to  learn  the  cause  of  the  child's 
grief  and  our  hearts  would  be  the  warmer  after 
a  word  from  the  mother.  Common  occur- 
rences— the  hurt  child  seeking  mother-com- 
fort— we  might  almost  say  trying  ones  at 
times,  yet  how  dull  and  colourless  life  would 
be  without  the  hurts  and  the  comfort  that  is 
sure  to  come  from  somewhere.  Miss  Nourse 
is  holding  our  interest  and  in  each  new  work 
we  are  conscious  of  a  widening  sympathy  and 
a  deeper  knowledge — she  sees  life  in  the 
living. 

Another  artist  who  is  picturing  people 
in  the  parks  and  along  the  river  drives  and 
at  the  "Picnic''  (Fig.  181)  is  Gifford  Beal. 
That  the  artist  appreciates  the  effect  of  light 
and  air  on  distant  scenes  is  without  question. 
His  splendid  arrangement,  glorious  colour  and 
moving  quality  of  the  picnic  group  are  those  of 
a  real  crowd  seen  through  the  medium  of  light 
and  air.  Yet,  dare  we  suggest,  these  play 
strange  pranks  as  we  approach  nearer  to  see 


232       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

some  pictures  of  Mr.  Beal's.  We  are  keenly 
alive  to  the  necessity  of  a  breadth  of  treatment 
in  picturing  a  restless  crowd  of  living  things 
enveloped  in  a  quivering  medium  and  we  also 
know  that  our  eyes  do  not  see  distant  things 
in  detail.  Is  it  not  possible,  however,  that 
liberty  in  the  use  of  the  medium  is  becoming 
license  when  a  picture  gives  no  impression  at 
all  unless  a  volume  of  light  and  air  ten  feet 
and  more  in  thickness  is  between  the  beholder 
and  the  picture  ? 

Mr.  Bears  "Autumn  in  the  City"  (Fig.  182) 
is  as  comprehensive  in  treatment  as  in  subject. 
He  gives  us  the  sense  of  the  whole  city  in  this 
limited  view.  We  see  in  imagination  the  build- 
ings stretching  away  into  the  space  beyond  and 
feel  that  behind  us  are  buildings  innumerable. 
And  what  a  glorious  autumn  it  is !  The  trees 
filling  the  parks  and  marking  the  tiny  resting 
places  radiate  a  glow  and  warmth  onto  build- 
ings and  streets  that  gladden  thousands  of 
hearts.  People  hurrying  across  the  parks  or 
sitting  on  the  benches  have  a  new  feeling  of 
courage  and  joy,  little  dreaming  as  they  hurry 
away  or  stop  to  rest  that  it  has  come  to  them 
from  the  laughing  trees  in  their  gay  attire. 
How  few  of  us  realise  the  effect  of  a  bright 
spot  in  monotonous  surroundings!   Let  a  red 


Fig.  183 — Girl  in  Green.    McLean,    Courtesy  of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 

Syracuse. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS 


bird  flit  across  the  lawn  where  the  friendly 
robin  has  been  foraging  for  hours  and  we  smile 
a  welcome  to  the  gay  stranger.  The  artist  has 
set  the  whole  city  aglow  with  the  rich  tones 
of  those  trees.  Brown  and  yellow  leaves  were 
never  more  golden  as  they  rustle  to  the  ground. 
They  may  not  reach  the  high  key  of  red  and 
orange  in  the  leaves  of  single  trees  in  the  open, 
but  they  sing  a  glorious  song  of  richness  and 
warmth. 

Miss  Jean  McLean  can  make  a  picture  of  a 
portrait  likeness.  None  who  knew  the  "Girl 
in  Green"  (Fig.  183),  Syracuse  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  could  mistake  her.  The  features 
are  specialised  until  eyes  and  nose  and  mouth 
and  chin  play  the  natural  role  of  character 
revealers.  This  is  accomplished  with  breadth 
of  handling.  The  young  woman  compels  no- 
tice; she  not  only  fills  the  direct  foreground 
but  she  fits  the  rugged  background  and  cloud- 
swept  sky.  The  splendid  sweep  of  her  ample 
gown  and  filmy  scarf  synchronise  with  the 
wind-swelled  clouds  in  harmony  with  big 
movements. 

Miss  McLean  holds  steadily  to  big  ideals,  not 
always  with  delicate  perceptions,  but  ever  de- 
manding truth.  Her  children  are  vigorous 
young  things  full  of  animal  spirits  and  of  fine 
physical  development. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


SPENCER— HOPKINS— DESSAR—GARBER 
—SPEICHER— BROWN 

"II/HEN  Robert  Spencer  began  painting  the 
'  water-fronts  along  the  canal  at  New 
Hope,  Pa.,  he  opened  our  eyes  to  a  new  beauty 
in  the  commonplace.  There  is  beauty  in  every- 
thing if  only  we  are  attune  to  the  effect  of  light, 
atmosphere  and  colour  that  radiates  and  envel- 
ops and  glorifies  the  world  about  us.  Unfortu- 
nately we  are  so  intently  grubbing  for  material 
possessions  that  the  marvellous  pictures  in  the 
work-a-day  world  escape  us.  We  need  Mr. 
Spencer.  He  gives  us  a  new  vision  of  life. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  see  ''On  the  Canal, 
New  Hope"  (Fig.  184),  in  the  exhibition  of  the 
National  Academy  in  the  spring  of  1916.  The 
charm  of  the  picture  is  indescribable.  I  was 
drawn  to  it  with  a  feeling  that  the  artist  had 
caught  what  I  had  missed  in  these  homely 
scenes,  and  I  was  seeing  life  anew.  The  beauty 
of  the  commonplace!  What  a  message  to  give 
to  the  world!    Those  weather-worn  houses, 

234 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  235 


with  plaster  broken  and  hanging  and  paint  al- 
most a  thing  of  the  past,  look  down  into  the 
tiny  yards  with  a  smile  of  content  that  sets  our 
hearts  a-singing.  And  was  there  ever  a  more 
fascinating  design  for  embroidery  work  than 
that  bare  and  leafless  tree  with  its  shadow  sil- 
houette? But  even  the  most  practical  minded 
could  find  satisfaction  in  this  picture.  The 
sun  on  the  drying  clothes,  the  fitness  of  the 
man  at  the  bench  and  the  joy  of  the  woman 
over  the  stray  bits  of  coal  for  her  hod, — here  is 
life  in  the  living.  Bare  facts?  Of  course  they 
are,  but  given  with  the  master  hand  of  one 
who  knows  when  to  amplify  and  where  to 
eliminate.  The  Detroit  Museum  of  Art  is  to 
be  congratulated  because  it  owns  Mr.  Spencer's 
"On  the  Canal,  New  Hope.'' 

Another  waterfront  of  Mr.  Spencer's,  strong 
in  line  and  big  in  composition  and  design,  is 
"Repairing  the  Bridge"  (Fig.  185),  added  to 
the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  in  1914. 
Here  also  we  have  the  delicious  colour  that 
time  under  the  stress  of  wind  and  weather 
gives  to  stone  and  plaster  and  wood.  Again 
it  has  taken  the  artist  to  waken  our  sense  of 
beauty.  The  beauty  in  the  scene  itself  has  al- 
ways been  there — we  were  blind  to  it.  How 
daring  it  was  to  place  that  square,  inflexible 
house  in  the  very  centre  of  a  picture!  But 


236       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

look  at  the  flanking — trees  covered  with  lace- 
work  leaves  like  a  bride  under  her  wedding- 
veil  on  one  side,  and  a  bit  of  country  on  the 
other.  Was  ever  a  homelier  subject  set  in  a 
more  delightful  frame — a  smiling  landscape, 
blue  sky,  wedding-veil,  and  strong,  wholesome 
workmen  setting  to  rights  jangled  forces  in 
the  commercial  world  ?  The  artist  has  centred 
the  interest  in  that  bridge.  See  how  vitally 
concerned  the  crowd  in  the  doorway  of  the  old 
warehouse  is  about  the  completion  of  the  job, 
yet  it  is  doubtful  if  it  would  lift  a  finger  to 
push  the  work.  And  the  man  leaning  on  the 
parapet  has  plenty  of  advice  to  offer ;  advice  is 
cheap  and  costs  no  effort.  But  above  every- 
thing else  is  the  joy  we  feel  in  the  picture.  Its 
power  of  holding  us  lies  in  the  individuality  of 
the  artist.  A  photograph  of  the  scene  would 
have  but  a  passing  interest.  Not  so  a  paint- 
ing when  it  comes  through  the  alchemy  of  an 
artist's  soul  with  the  mystery  of  creation  still 
clinging  to  it. 

Mr.  Spencer  was  born  in  Harvard,  Ne- 
braska, in  1879.  He  was  a  pupil  of  William 
M.  Chase  and  Robert  Henri,  two  men  who 
stand  for  very  definite  phases  in  painting,  yet 
Mr.  Spencer  has  developed  an  individual  art 
that  promises  much  for  the  future. 

That  the  picturesque  among  our  American 


'J 

■ 


Fig.  184 — On  the  Canal,  New  Hope.    Spencer.    Courtesy  of  the 
Detroit  Museum  of  Art. 


Fig.   185 — Repamng  the  Bridge.     Spencer.     Courtesy  of  the 
MetropoHtan  Museum  of  Art. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  237 


people  is  not  confined  to  the  foreign  element 
of  our  cities  or  even  to  the  Indian  is  being 
very  forcefully  proved  by  James  R.  Hopkins 
in  his  pictures  of  the  Cumberland  Mountain 
folk  of  Kentucky.  Mr.  Hopkins  is  opening 
our  eyes  to  the  wonderful  possibilities  of  these 
sturdy  mountaineers.  His  pictures  are  verit- 
able character  sketches  yet  never  for  one  mo- 
ment does  he  lose  sight  of  their  artistic  value. 

It  is  joy  to  feel  the  intimate  understanding 
that  Mr.  Hopkins  gives  in  the  portrayal  of 
these  people.  We  realise  that  his  home  was 
among  them ;  their  joys  were  his  joys  and  their 
sorrows  found  sympathy  in  his  heart.  No  one 
could  look  at  the  ''Mountain  Lovers"  (Fig. 
186)  without  feeling  a  thrill  of  happiness  in 
the  love  of  these  two  young  beings — true  chil- 
dren of  the  soil.  The  purple  haze  creeping 
to  the  water's  edge  from  the  wooded  slope 
above,  and  the  laughing,  dancing  river  are  as 
much  a  part  of  the  romance  as  the  discreet 
mother  whose  courtship  days  are  now  the 
daughter's.  How  truly  the  story  of  woman- 
hood among  nature's  primitives  is  told  in  these 
two — the  girl  elusive,  tempting;  the  mother 
cowed,  obedient,  self-effacing.  One  can 
scarcely  believe  the  maudlin,  love-lorn,  hesi- 
tating boy  is  to  become  the  dominating,  over- 
bearing husband  of  the  future.  Over  and  over 


238        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

again  Mr.  Hopkins  represents  the  domineer- 
ing man  and  the  subservient  woman.  He  has 
caught  the  elemental  spirit  that  dwells  untamed 
where  nature  and  man  are  one. 

Mr.  Hopkins,  born  in  Ohio  in  1877,  first 
studied  in  Cincinnati  then  in  Paris.  His  com- 
prehensive travel  in  Japan,  China,  Ceylon  and 
Egypt  has  given  him  a  wonderful  grasp  of 
spacing  and  arrangement. 

Louis  Paul  Dessar  (1868)  is  a  native  of 
Indianapolis,  and  lives  in  New  York  City.  In 
the  'Wood  Cart"  (Fig.  187),  MetropoHtan 
Museum  of  Art,  Mr.  Dessar  has  taken  an 
incident  out  of  the  unpoetic  life  of  the  toil- 
worn  farmer  comparable  to  that  of  Millet's 
French  peasants.  To  ride  on  a  load  of  poles 
drawn  across  a  roadless  stony  field  by  a  yoke 
of  oxen  is  anything  but  a  comfortable  ride,  yet 
the  artist's  picturesque  handling  has  glorified 
the  scene.  Under  his  brush  the  rough  stones 
and  uneven  ground  glow  with  warmth;  the 
light  plays  hide-and-seek  over  the  patient  oxen, 
moving  with  slow,  even  gait,  regardless  of  any 
obstacles,  and  gleams  on  the  striped  poles.  His 
brush  has  caught  the  hues  that  Jack  Frost  has 
left  in  his  wake  on  trees  and  shrubs.  Always 
individual,  Mr.  Dessar  makes  us  feel  the  thrill 
he  felt  when  selecting  a  particular  spot  to  set 
up  his  easel. 


Fig.  187 — The  Wood  Cart.     Dossar.     Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan 
Mu.s(>iini  of  Art. 


Fig.  188— Fields  in  Jersey.    Garbor.    Courtesy  of  the  Macbeth  Gallery, 
New  York  City. 


Fig.  190 — Poplars.    Roy  Brown. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  239 

Daniel  Garber  (1880)  is  a  little  disconcert- 
ing. His  painting  of  ''Tannis/'  which  was 
awarded  the  second  Altman  prize  of  the  Na- 
tional Academy  of  Design,  is  so  much  a  child 
of  nature  that  it  seems  as  though  no  fields  of 
his  would  be  interesting  without  her.  Yet 
"Fields  in  Jersey''  (Fig.  188)  is  interesting. 
It  may  be  that  the  warmth  of  her  presence 
lingers  under  those  vine-covered  trees,  and 
possibly  she  may  be  paddling  her  bare  feet 
in  the  pond  hidden  behind  the  screen  of 
leaves.  Or  she  may  be  chasing  butterflies 
in  the  open  field  beyond.  At  any  rate 
there  is  a  feeling  of  intimacy  in  the  picture. 
Mr.  Garber's  landscapes  leave  a  peculiar, 
haunting  green  clinging  to  the  memory.  One 
wonders  if  it  is  due  to  the  close  range  of  his 
pictures,  if  one  may  use  that  term  to  describe 
them.  They  seem  to  invite  a  look  with  the 
artist  through  the  tangled  network  screen  to 
see  the  picture  spread  out  there.  Sometimes 
the  screen  gives  place  to  low  bushes  or  a  bor- 
dering walk,  and  these  always  warn  the  in- 
truder not  to  enter,  only  to  look  in. 

In  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  is  a 
landscape  by  Eugene  Speicher  called  ^'Morning 
Light''  (Fig.  189).  It  is  a  representation  of 
early  spring  when  all  nature  is  rejoicing  in  a 
new  creation.    The  rejoicing  is  that  of  birds 


240       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

twittering  to  their  mates  that  a  new  home-mak- 
ing time  has  come;  of  the  flowers  awakening 
to  greet  a  new  world ;  of  leaves  bursting  their 
bondage  into  a  new  freedom;  of  grasses  bow- 
ing and  swaying  to  the  passing  breezes ;  of  the 
dew  responding  to  the  caresses  of  the  rising 
sun.  The  whole  hillside  is  a  song  of  praise 
sung  in  a  harmony  of  tender  greens.  This 
morning  light  awakens  our  better  selves  and 
stirs  our  imagination  to  higher  ideals  because 
in  it  is  the  potential  element  of  growth.  One 
of  the  most  marked  features  of  success  among 
our  modern  American  artists  is  their  ability  to 
express  motion — change — without  their  results 
being  restless  and  unbalanced.  They  are  recog- 
nising that  life  is  full  of  movement,  either  in- 
ternal or  external,  and  that  it  must  be  ex- 
pressed although  not  by  sacrificing  other  essen- 
tials. No  true  artist  finds  this  an  easy  task. 
Even  Corot  must  have  met  with  difficulties  at 
first.  He  said,  you  remember,  ^'Although  when 
I  was  young  it  annoyed  me  that  the  clouds 
would  not  keep  still,  now  I  am  glad  that  they 
will  not,  for  therein  lies  their  beauty." 

Mr.  Speicher  was  born  in  Buffalo,  New 
York,  in  1883.  He  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
art  in  America  and  then  spent  some  time  in 
Europe.  He  is  doing  equally  as  good  work  in 
portraiture  as  in  landscapes.   In  his  modelling 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  241 


of  flesh  he  is  firm  and  convincing  and  gives  his 
people  character.  In  many  of  his  portrait  pic- 
tures simpHcity  is  the  element  of  charm. 

Roy  Brown's  trees  have  a  personality  that 
reminds  one  of  Rousseau  and  his  beloved  trees. 
These  'Toplars"  (Fig.  190)  surely  have  been 
confiding  their  secrets  to  Mr.  Brown  just  as 
the  French  master  wished  his  trees  to  confide 
in  him.  There  is  nothing  specially  attractive 
about  the  tall,  gaunt,  almost  branchless  trunks 
swaying  to  the  breeze,  yet  they  speak  volumes 
to  us. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


SNELL— LEVER— YATES— WAUGH— 
DOUGHERTY— KOOPMAN 

XJENRY  B.  SNELL  is  ever  keeping  abreast 
of  the  modern  movement  in  art  without 
for  a  moment  losing  his  firm  grasp  of  essen- 
tials. Few  younger  artists  understand  as  he 
does  the  effect  of  light  on  quivering  water  and  a 
wind-swept  spit  of  land.  Then,  too,  the  stay- 
ing quality  of  vertical  lines  and  solid  masses  in 
his  pictures  make  one  feel  that  sincerity  is  a 
fundamental  principle  with  him.  How  quickly 
"Backwater"  (Fig.  191)  awakens  our  memory 
of  just  such  scenes  along  water  fronts.  The 
intimate  colour  caressing  in  turn  the  water- 
soaked  logs,  water-worn  hulks,  water-washed 
houses,  water-denuded  rocky  hillsides,  gives  to 
the  whole  a  delicious  note  of  familiarity.  Then 
the  dull  green  of  the  foliage  is  a  healthful  un- 
dertone broadening  the  life  of  the  homes.  The 
men  on  the  pier  are  an  added  note  of  good  cheer 
to  the  constant  swish  of  the  confined  water. 
How  the  tall,  stark  masts  give  a  sense  of  free- 

242 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  243 


dom  to  the  imprisoned  crafts  and  how  delight- 
fully their  quivering  shadows  suggest  possibili- 
ties lying  in  wait! 

Mr.  Snell  was  born  in  Richmond,  England, 
in  1858,  but  he  is  an  American  by  adoption  and 
had  his  training  at  the  Art  Students'  League 
in  New  York  City.  He  paints  both  landscapes 
and  marines,  and  in  the  latter  he  usually  keeps 
close  to  shore  and  the  human  side  of  life.  He 
often  represents  boats  near  the  shore  deliver- 
ing their  products  gathered  from  the  sea.  In 
one  scene,  ''The  Beach,''  Mr.  Snell  shows  us 
boats  pointed  seaward.  The  background  is  a 
level  beach  and  beyond  a  broken  low-lying 
rocky  coast  against  a  cloudy  sky.  The  light 
breaking  through  catches  the  glint  of  the  tum- 
bled sand  and  water  until  the  little  fleet  is  radi- 
ant with  the  glory  of  it.  Again  boats  are  rid- 
ing at  anchor  in  an  "Outer  Harbour/'  where 
they  are  protected  from  the  dashing  waters  on 
the  threatening  rocks  all  aflame  with  a  glori- 
ous light. 

Another  artist,  a  much  younger  man,  who  is 
showing  us  the  glory  of  light  on  along  shore 
scenes  in  Hayley  Lever.  In  his  ''Boats  at 
Gloucester"  (Fig.  192)  he  gives  in  water  colour 
an  interesting  picture  of  the  water  front  of  the 
old  New  England  town.  The  fishing  industry 
makes  itself  felt  in  the  restless  boats  swaying 


244       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

and  tugging  at  their  moorings.  How  the  crin- 
kled shadows  of  the  tall  masts  emphasise  the 
sense  of  motion  and  how  the  bulging  sails 
carry  the  impression  of  a  stiff  breeze  sweeping 
seaward !  The  tall  church  tower  hints  that  the 
gabled  houses  peeping  from  their  green  setting 
has  kept  close  to  the  welcoming  centre  of  the 
home-coming  of  the  sea-toilers. 

The  animated  colour  of  this  harbour  scene 
is  full  of  the  exuberance  of  youth  and  gives  one 
the  impression  that  Mr.  Lever  revels  in  colour 
because  it  thrills  him  and  he  loves  it.  His 
success  with  a  water  colour  medium  in  this  pic- 
ture is  self-evident,  yet  the  regret  will  come 
that  it  was  not  done  in  oil,  where  paint  and  can- 
vas are  more  permanent  and  lasting.  We  all 
admit  that  a  good  water  colour  picture  is  bet- 
ter than  a  poor  oil  painting,  but  paper,  as  we 
know  it,  very  soon  deteriorates. 

When  Cullen  Yates  painted  this  "Rock 
Bound  Coast,''  in  the  National  Gallery,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.  (Fig.  193),  he  certainly  put  the 
very  spirit  of  desolateness  into  it.  Stern,  un- 
compromising, immovable  are  the  attributes 
written  on  every  line  of  the  projecting  rock, 
and  yet  the  restless,  uneasy,  persistent  wash  of 
the  waters  is  doing  its  work.  Centuries  may 
come  and  centuries  may  go  and  these  two  op- 
posing forces  will  continue  to  harass  each 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  245 

other,  always  with  the  odds  in  favour  of  the 
dynamic  power. 

Mr.  Yates  deals  with  the  very  fundamentals 
of  life.  And  how  he  makes  us  feel  the  ele- 
mental forces  in  his  strong,  straightforward 
lines !  His  frank,  simple,  brush  strokes  tell  the 
story  of  the  Rock  Bound  Coast  with  the 
naivete  of  a  child.  It  is  the  work  of  one  whose 
art  speaks  the  truth  and  is  understood  by  sage 
and  rustic  alike.  Even  to  those  who  have  never 
seen  a  rock  bound  coast  this  picture  will  bring 
a  message  of  the  ceaseless  strife  going  on  be- 
tween land  and  water. 

To  give  the  very  essence  of  the  eternal  strug- 
gle constantly  at  work  is  great  art  and  Mr. 
Yates  is  doing  that  in  his  work.  Whether  he 
pictures  rocks  and  sea,  the  river  forcing  its  way 
through  the  land,  or  ''A  Crisp  September/'  he 
gives  the  sense  of  nature  changing  and  of  the 
working  of  forces  within.  Then  there  is  al^ 
ways  a  hopeful  touch  in  the  caressing  atmos- 
phere hovering  over  his  colour  notes,  be  they 
sombre  or  gay. 

Mr.  Yates  was  born  in  Bryan,  Ohio,  1866. 
He  was  a  pupil  of  William  M.  Chase,  also  of 
Leonard  Ochtman.  He  studied  in  the  ficole 
des  Beaux  Arts,  Paris,  but  his  art  has  always 
been  peculiarly  original  and  progressive. 

Mr.  Frederick  J.  Waugh,  born  in  Borden- 


246       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

town,  N.  J.,  in  1861,  was  first  trained  in  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Arts,  Philadelphia, 
then  studied  in  the  Julien  Academy,  Paris. 
Many  of  his  marines  are  scenes  from  the  open 
sea  where  the  restless  blue  waters  meet  the 
greenish  sky  and  pink-edged  clouds  float  above. 
The  sense  of  infinity  in  these  pictures  is  almost 
overwhelming.  In  the  painting  of  "Sea  and 
Rocks"  (Fig.  194)  Mr.  Waugh  has  pitted 
opposing  forces  with  a  fine  appreciation  of 
what  ceaseless  onslaughts  will  accomplish. 
The  terrible  impact  of  the  rushing  water  seems 
powerless  against  the  solid  defense,  yet  the 
broken  surfaces  of  the  rocks,  where  the  foam 
is  quietly  working  its  way  back  to  the  open 
sea,  foretell  the  final  victory  of  the  offensive 
waters. 

In  no  marines  does  the  water  reflect  the 
blueness  of  the  sky  as  in  Mr.  Waugh's.  We 
wonder  at  times  if  his  blue  glasses  are  not  ex- 
aggerating. There  is  a  delightful  joyousness, 
however,  in  the  frank  blue  surface  of  the 
water. 

That  Mr.  Waugh's  perception  of  the  unusual 
has  led  him  into  a  strange  wonderland  is  abun- 
dantly verified  in  his  book,  ''The  Clan  of 
Munes"  (Fig.  195),  from  which  our  illustra- 
tion is  taken.  These  queer  little  figures  are 
fashioned  from  weather  worn  spruce  tree  roots 


Fig.  197- 


' — On  the  Rocks  After  a  Storm.    Koopman.    Courtesy  of  the 
Delgado  Museum  of  Art,  New  Orleans. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  247 


that  the  artist  picked  up  on  the  island  of  Mon- 
hegan  when  there  painting  marines.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  know  the  beginnings  of  the  fan- 
tastic little  beings  so  graphically  described  both 
in  word  and  picture  by  the  artist.  He  says, 
''I  began  seeing  little  people  with  queer,  tall 
caps  and  then  made  careful  drawings  of  roots 
and  placed  these  little  people  near  them,  and 
by  and  by  I  began  to  think  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  form  a  story  or  a  series  of  stories  about 
these  drawings."  Certainly  Alice  never  saw 
stranger  antics  in  Wonderland  than  these  of 
the  grotesque  little  creatures  performing 
under  the  spruce  tree.  The  remarkable  draw- 
ing and  artistic  arrangement  of  them  make  a 
pleasing  picture;  and  the  curious  little  beings 
have  a  fascination  because  of  the  constant 
revelation  of  hitherto  undiscovered  wonders. 
What  an  incentive  to  the  inventive  genius  of 
children  summering  near  the  sea  this  Clan  of 
Munes  will  be !  It  ought  to  open  their  eyes  to 
new  possibilities  in  the  drift  wood  where  they 
can  discover  for  themselves  other  members  for 
the  Clan  of  Munes. 

Since  Winslow  Homer  (see  page  64)  found 
the  ocean  a  source  of  artistic  inspiration  many 
of  our  artists  have  followed  in  his  train. 
Paul  Dougherty,  one  of  the  younger  men, 
is  painting  the  varied  moods  of  Neptune  with 


248       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

keen  appreciation  of  the  old  god.  He  not  only 
understands  the  desolateness  of  the  open  sea 
under  the  fury  of  Neptune  but  his  ''Manana 
Point"  (Fig.  196),  Carnegie  Public  Library, 
Fort  Worth,  Texas,  is  just  as  drear,  with  its 
wild  waste  of  waters.  With  what  rush  and 
swirl  they  lash  the  sturdy  rocks  at  the  point,  and 
then  defeated  pour  back  to  gather  force  for 
the  next  attack!  The  foam  and  roar  of  the 
water  is  like  some  wild  beast  lashed  into  im- 
potent rage.  And  see  how  wonderfully  the 
light  plays  upon  the  seething  mass,  until  the 
whole  is  a  sea  of  glory.  Mr.  Dougherty  un- 
dertook a  daring  deed  when  he  thought  to 
fashion  that  stupendous  onrush  in  paint,  but  he 
was  equal  to  the  task.  The  vibrations  of  light 
quiver  and  palpitate  under  his  brush-strokes 
until  the  whole  mass  of  water  is  ready  to  burst 
its  bonds  while  we  watch  it;  and  then  the  sul- 
len retreating  mass  glides  back  as  though 
ashamed.  The  power  in  that  tumult  is  tre- 
mendous— the  spirit  of  the  great  deep  is  there. 

Mr.  Dougherty  was  born  in  Brooklyn  in 
1877  and  first  studied  art  in  New  York  City. 
He  then  studied  in  Paris  and  went  to  London, 
Florence,  Venice,  and  Munich  and  now  lives  in 
New  York  City. 

A  picture  of  nature  in  one  of  her  changeable 
moods  is  ''On  the  Rocks  after  the  Storm" 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  249 


(Fig.  197),  Delgado  Museum  of  Art,  New 
Orleans,  by  Augustus  Koopman  (i  869-1914). 
The  storm  has  spent  itself  and  the  sunlight  is 
bursting  through  and  illuminating  the  scud- 
ding clouds  and  fast-running  water.  What  a 
glorious  light  it  is,  too,  and  how  it  spreads 
itself  from  surf  to  whitecap!  Mr.  Koopman 
has  captured  the  very  magic  of  sunlight,  and 
has  fixed  it  on  canvas  in  a  radiance  scarcely 
believable.  The  glory  of  the  scene  is  such 
that  not  even  the  victims  of  the  storm  can  mar 
it.  What  matters  the  storm,  now  that  the 
clouds  are  smiling  again? 

Mr.  Koopman  was  born  in  South  Carolina, 
and  after  special  training  at  the  Pennsylvania 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  went  to  Paris.  He  re- 
ceived a  number  of  medals  from  America  and 
Europe,  and  his  works  are  in  many  of  our  mu- 
seums. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


LEIGH— COUSE— BURROUGHS— PARRISH 

TIT'ILUAM  R.  LEIGH^S  (1866)  pictures 
of  the  Navajo  Indian  in  his  native  home 
south  of  the  San  Juan  River  present  a  new 
point  of  view  of  the  western  deserts  and  their 
picturesque  inhabitants.  The  breath  of  ro- 
mance that  he  gives  to  them  recalls  the  joy 
and  pain  that  came  to  us  in  following  Hia- 
watha as 

"Forth  he  strode  into  the  forest, 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter." 

A  note  of  pathos  like  a  dirge  vibrates 
through  these  Indian  scenes.  Sometimes  it  is 
a  crashing  blare  of  battle  where  the  Redskin 
fights  for  freedom,  and  again  it  is  a  whisper  to 
the  boy  in  "The  Land  of  his  Fathers''  (Fig. 
198).  This  child  of  nature,  a  little  Navajo 
goat-herder,  is  as  fine  a  type  of  the  Indian 
boy  of  old  as  was  Hiawatha.  Well  formed, 
alert,  quick  of  comprehension,  he  with  his 

250 


Fig.  198— The  Land  of  His  Fathers.    Leigh.    Courtesy  of  the  Snedecor  Gal- 
lery, New  York  City. 


Fig.  199 — A  Vision  of  the  Past.    Couse.    Courtesy  of  the  Artist. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  251 

dogs  starts  at  dawn  to  care  for  a  flock  of  two 
hundred  or  more  sheep  and  goats.  What  a 
bright,  merry  object  he  is  in  his  ragged  shirt, 
blue  overalls  and  red  buckskin  moccasins! 
Mr.  Leigh  speaks  with  the  greatest  affection 
of  this  particular  boy.    He  says: 

"'My  picture  is  nearly  a  portrait  of  the  lit- 
tle chap  nine  years  old.  I  hired  him  from  his 
mother  to  pose  for  me.  .  .  .  His  appreciation 
of  a  picture  was  as  keen  as  that  of  any  white 
boy  and  his  reliability  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired.'' 

It  is  impossible  to  appreciate  in  half-tone 
pictures  the  brilliancy  of  Mr.  Leigh's  paint- 
ings. His  portrayal  of  the  marvellous  colour- 
ing under  the  sun's  evening  and  morning  rays, 
the  clarity  of  the  atmosphere  intensifying  the 
sheen  of  the  sage  bush  and  the  glitter  of  the 
sand  and  opalescence  of  the  overhanging  sky 
is  most  convincing. 

Mr.  Leigh  was  born  on  his  father's  planta- 
tion in  Berkely  County,  West  Virginia.  His 
first  training  in  art  was  at  the  Maryland  In- 
stitute and  at  seventeen  he  went  to  Munich, 
Germany,  to  study.  He  did  not  return  to 
America  permanently  until  he  was  thirty  years 
old,  and  then  began  illustrating  for  Scrib- 
ner's  and  other  magazines.  It  was  several 
years  later  before  Mr.  Leigh  began  his  pictures 


252        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

of  the  West  and  the  Navajo  Indian  in  his  na- 
tive haunts. 

If  we  were  travelling  in  the  south-west  sec- 
tion of  the  Rocky  Mountains  near  the  Taos 
Range  we  certainly  would  make  an  effort  to 
see  E.  Irving  Couse  in  his  studio,  remodelled 
from  an  old  Mexican  convent.  This  old  con- 
vent is  now  Mr.  Couse's  permanent  summer 
home  and  here  he  comes  in  close  touch  with 
the  Pueblo  Indians  and  their  beautiful  moun- 
tain setting. 

Indians  are  naturally  superstitious.  *Tar- 
ticularly/'  says  Mr.  Couse,  ''about  leaving  be- 
hind them  pictorial  representations  of  them- 
selves, claiming  that  their  souls  after  death 
will  inhabit  the  picture  instead  of  going  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Ground.''  Naturally,  until 
this  superstition  is  overcome,  it  is  difficult  to 
obtain  Indian  models,  but  artists  are  gradually 
winning  their  way  with  the  red  man.  This  is 
particularly  true  with  the  Pueblos.  Too  far 
from  the  railroad  to  be  spoiled  by  modern  civil- 
isation, they  are  still  in  their  native  state  of  liv- 
ing and  dress. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Mr.  Couse  Has 
gained  the  confidence  of  his  dusky  neighbours. 
When  painting  "A  Vision  of  the  Past"  (Fig. 
199)  he  no  doubt  listened  to  many  tales  of  the 
long  ago — tales  of  when  the  mountains  rang 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  253 

with  the  scream  of  the  red  man  in  battle.  Lit- 
tle wonder  that  those  shadowy  mounted  fig- 
ures leaping  from  crag  to  crag  in  deadly  com- 
bat aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  his  new  found 
friends.  How  intimately  illuminating  the  lit- 
tle personal  touch  in  the  artist's  statement, 
"They  are  much  interested  in  seeing  the  pic- 
tures grow  and  frequently  oflfer  suggestions 
which  from  their  primitive  point  of  view  are 
often  invaluable  to  the  artist"!  Those  stern, 
uncompromising  figures  in  the  foreground  are 
the  embodiment  of  offended  dignity.  In  the 
child's  wonder  is  an  eagerness  that  suggests 
faint  stirrings  of  the  primitive  war  passion. 

Mr.  Couse  is  not  only  true  to  the  spirit  of 
the  red  man,  but  in  portraying  this  scene  he 
has  made  a  beautiful  picture.  That  pyramid 
of  delicious  colour  set  against  a  background 
alive  with  the  mystery  of  visions  and  enveloped 
in  an  atmosphere  quivering  with  life  fluids  is 
a  picture  long  to  be  remembered.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  it  was  awarded  the  Altman  five 
hundred  dollar  prize  in  the  National  Academy 
of  Design  in  the  winter  of  1916. 

Mr.  Couse's  pictures  of  Indians  are  pecul- 
iarly personal  and  friendly  in  that  they  show  an 
intimate  understanding  of  their  heart  sorrows 
and  joys.  In  the  picture  of  "An  Autumn  Mel- 
ody" a  young,  half-clad  Indian,  crouching  by 


254       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

a  mountain  stream  against  stones  and  tree 
trunks,  is  piping  a  tune  to  the  solitude.  The 
wreath  of  autumn  leaves  on  his  black  hair  and 
the  sun  glistening  on  his  bare  skin  make  a  pic- 
ture full  of  the  poetry  of  life.  And  again  in 
"The  Redstone  Pipe"  one  feels  that  the  artist 
has  pictured  the  comfort  of  a  tried  and  trusted 
friend. 

Mr.  Couse  was  born  in  Saginaw,  Michigan, 
in  1866.  He  studied  art  in  Chicago  and  New 
York  City  and  then  went  to  the  ficole  des 
Beaux  Arts,  Paris.  His  work  has  been  recog- 
nised by  numerous  prizes  and  medals,  and  his 
pictures  are  found  in  a  considerable  number 
of  our  public  galleries. 

It  is  not  strange  that  *'The  Young  Men  and 
Horses"  (Fig.  200),  by  Bryson  Burroughs 
(1869),  is  reminiscent  of  the  Parthenon  Pro- 
cession of  Mounted  Youths,  for  there  lingers 
about  all  of  his  pictures  a  vague  something 
suggestive  of  the  past.  Not  that  Mr.  Bur- 
roughs lacks  up-to-dateness — far  from  it — 
but  that  his  modernity  is  founded  on  funda- 
mental principles.  While  Pheidias  brought  to 
perfection  physical  activity  in  the  Athenian 
youths  of  the  Panathenaic  ceremonies  Mr. 
Burroughs  has  pictured  with  consummate  skill 
the  clean-cut  American  athlete  in  repose.  In 
these  young  men,  athletes  in  the  broad  sense  of 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  255 


the  word,  every  muscle  is  subservient  to  the 
trained  mind.  In  each  face  shines  the  spiritual 
strength  of  one  whose  body  is  the  temple  of 
God.  How  like  the  portico  of  some  old  Greek 
temple  the  conventualised  river-bank!  and  the 
luscious  coloured  statues — see!  they  suddenly 
begin  to  breathe  as  the  rich  blood  pulses  under 
the  velvet  skin.  The  limitless  horizon,  stretch- 
ing far  beyond  the  river,  the  hills  and  the 
widening  waters,  is  stupendous  in  its  bigness 
of  vision.  Yet  how  simple  in  concept!  Mr. 
Burroughs  has  the  rare  gift  of  expressing  big 
themes  in  an  understandable  way. 

Was  ever  grief  so  beautiful  as  in  "The  Fu- 
neral of  Adonis"  (Eig.  201)?  We  feel  that 
the  sorrow  of  these  lovely  beings  is  our  sorrow. 
Could  anything  be  more  exquisitely  expressive 
of  the  helplessness  of  love  against  death  than 
the  unconscious  Venus?  The  tender  sympa- 
thy of  the  three  friends  with  its  element  of 
helpfulness  speaks  volumes  for  the  sympathy 
that  strengthens  strength — not  coddles  weak- 
ness. Mr.  Burroughs  has  given  to  the  old 
story  of  the  dying  year  a  new  hopefulness. 
Death  simply  begins  the  new  birth — already 
the  flowers  have  sprung  into  life,  blown  open 
by  the  wind  and,  alas!  blown  away  by  it,  yet 
it  is  life. 

Beautiful  Adonis!  not  even  Venus  could 


256       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

keep  you  from  harm.  The  old  myth  is  very 
human,  for  the  spirit  of  keeping  beautiful  the 
memory  of  loved  ones  is  in  it.  Venus,  in  her 
swan-drawn  chariot — the  story  says — ^hears 
the  groans  of  her  beloved  Adonis  but,  too  late, 
she  reaches  the  fated  spot  where  his  lifeless 
body  lies  torn  and  bleeding  from  the  fangs  of 
the  wild  boar  he  had  attacked.  Through  her 
crushing  grief  came  the  thought,  ''Your  blood 
shall  be  changed  into  a  flower ;  that  consolation 
none  can  envy  me."  Tenderly  she  sprinkled 
nectar  on  the  blood  and  in  an  hour's  time  the 
lovely  Anemone  with  its  red-striped  petals  ap- 
peared. "And,"  said  Venus,  "the  spectacle  of 
your  death,  my  Adonis,  and  of  my  lamenta- 
tions shall  annually  be  renewed." 

Again  in  this  picture  is  the  haunting  essence 
of  varieties  belonging  to  ancient  art;  and  again 
broad  simplicity  and  pleasing  colour  notes — 
rich  and  harmonious — lift  us  out  of  the  arti- 
ficial into  a  realm  of  clean,  wholesome  living. 
Mr.  Burroughs  never  fails  to  express  himself 
with  a  broad  sense  of  the  proportion  of  things. 
His  themes,  be  they  motherhood,  immaturity 
of  youth,  readjusting  some  old  legend  or  purely 
realistic,  have  the  element  of  sane  common- 
sense  running  through  them.  Beautifully  dec- 
orative with  their  simple  lines,  restful  compo- 
sition and  harmonious  colour  scheme  they 


Fig.  200 — The  Young  Men  and  Horses.    Burroughs.    Courtesy  of  the  Artist. 


Fig.  -^ui — The  Funeral  of  Adonis.    Burroughs.    Courtesy  of  the  Artist. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  257 


calm  and  strengthen  us.  Mr.  Burroughs,  a 
native  of  Massachusetts,  was  trained  in  this 
country  and  abroad.  His  versatility  is  that  of 
one  who  has  trained  his  faculties  to  grasp  the 
essentials  of  life  and  use  them  in  his  varied 
works.  While  most  of  his  paintings  are  easel 
pictures  his  mural  decorations  in  Mr.  H.  H. 
Flagler's  home  are  but  the  beginning  of  more 
extended  work  in  public  buildings.  As  curator 
of  painting  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art,  Mr.  Burroughs  is  a  power. 

When  Maxfield  Parrish  ( 1870)  painted  ''Old 
King  Cole"  on  the  walls  of  the  Knickerbocker 
Hotel,  New  York  City,  he  delighted  every- 
body. Painter  and  Philistine,  children  and 
grown  people  all  sang  and  are  still  singing 
the  praises  of  the  ''Merry  Old  Soul,"  as  Mr. 
Parrish  represents  him.  Replete  with  genuine 
humour  these  worthies  wriggle  one's  risibles 
without  offending  the  most  exacting  critic. 
And  as  to  arrangement,  colour,  harmony — 
everything  that  makes  for  a  picture — all  are 
perfect. 

But  Mr.  Parrish  does  not  aways  draw  on 
the  classics — Mother  Goose  or  otherwise — for 
his  subjects.  His  own  brain  is  a  rich  mine  of 
romantic  themes.  Never  has  he  worked  out  a 
more  delightful  series  than  in  the  girls'  dining- 
room  of  the  Curtis  Publishing  Company, 


258       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

Philadelphia.  The  gladsome  freshness  of  youth 
is  in  "The  Carnival/'  The  joy  of  the  soul 
awakening  to  consciousness  of  mate  com- 
panionship is  the  dominant  note — a  note  as 
pure  as  that  of  the  lark  winging  upward  with 
its  song. 

The  series  represents  a  terraced  garden,  as 
it  were,  against  the  loggia  of  an  Italian  pal- 
ace, arranged  in  panels  placed  between  tall 
arched  Colonial  windows.  Each  scene  is  com- 
plete in  itself  yet  the  same  undertone  of  joyous 
seeking  is  in  all.  The  "Three  Panels''  (Fig. 
202)  represent  on  the  left,  "Love's  Pilgrim- 
age," centre,  "The  Garden  of  Opportunity," 
and  right,  "A  Call  to  Joy."  Not  the  least  of 
the  elements  that  add  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
scenes  is  the  glorious  colour.  The  rich,  luscious 
tones  thrill  the  optic  nerve  like  loving  glances 
throbbing  in  the  heart.  Blues,  oranges,  reds, 
lavenders,  marshalled  by  the  skilled  tactician, 
all  play  their  part  in  cooling,  warming,  chal- 
lenging, subduing  until  "The  Fete"  is  one 
grand  manoeuvre  of  joyous  emotions.  Mr. 
Parrish  has  dipped  deep  into  the  treasures  of 
his  heart  and  brain  for  the  carnival  of  love. 
Every  scene  speaks  for  heart-purity  to  the 
girls  who  day  after  day  eat  and  chat  under  its 
influence.  "Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart" 
was  never  more  forcefully  pictured  since  the 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  259 


word  picture  of  One  on  the  mount  than  by 
Mr.  Parrish.  Surely  the  artist  scarcely  could 
have  given  greater  honour  to  his  native  city 
than  in  this  beautiful,  chaste,  artistic  mural 
painting  for  a  Philadelphia  publishing  house. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


WILES— DEARTH— TURNER— HENRI- 
WALTER— SEYFFERT— NORTON 

'l^T'HEN  Irving  R.  Wiles  painted  the  por- 
^  ^  trait  of  his  father,  ''Lemuel  Maynard 
Wiles"  (Fig.  203),  now  in  the  Metropoli- 
tan Museum  of  Art,  he  proved  to  the  lov- 
ers of  modern  art  that  broad,  swift  strokes 
are  as  forceful  in  his  hands  as  is  the  de- 
tailed work  of  the  more  finished  portrait.  No 
one  could  mistake  the  mental  calibre  of  the 
elder  painter — his  father  was  an  artist — after 
seeing  that  splendid  head.  The  rugged  han- 
dling emphasises  the  framework  of  the  head 
without  in  the  least  detracting  from  the  mark 
of  intelligence  that  stamps  every  feature.  One 
is  conscious  that  the  skull  is  typical  of  intel- 
lectuality in  the  white  race,  but  with  no  loss  of 
individual  personality.  Such  a  man  could  not 
be  represented  by  the  flash  of  his  eye,  for  the 
whole  contour  of  his  head  bears  the  impress 
of  the  mind  within.  The  son's  revelation  of 
his  father  is  the  kind  that  comes  from  a  living 
contact.   Such  a  portrait  lives. 

260 


Fig.  203 — Portrait  of  His  Father.     Wiles.     Courtesy  of  the  Metropolitan 

Museum  of  Art. 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  261 


Mr.  Wiles  was  born  in  Utica,  New  York,  in 
1861,  and,  in  training  for  his  profession,  stud- 
ied under  William  M.  Chase  and  then  spent 
some  time  in  Paris.  We  are  indebted  to  Mr. 
Wiles  for  portraits  of  a  number  of  our  artists. 
His  group  of  "Charles  Bittinger  and  Daugh- 
ter Isabel"  is  exceedingly  characteristic.  As 
we  look  at  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Bittinger  and 
then  turn  to  the  exquisite  "Madame  du  Barry" 
(see  Fig.  213),  which  he  painted  from  a  bit  of 
decoration  in  the  old  palace  of  Versailles,  we 
understand  better  the  comprehensive  character 
of  Mr.  Wiles'  portraiture. 

No  two  pictures  could  be  more  dissimilar  in 
treatment  than  these  two.  Look  again  at  the 
artist's  father.  The  lines  carved  on  the  head 
are  of  constructive  work  and  need  no  explana- 
tion. He  simply  marks  the  elemental  forces  of 
passing  years  with  a  few  brush  strokes,  realis- 
ing that  strong,  simple  lines  are  a  force  in  them- 
selves. In  the  other  portrait  of  Mr.  Bittinger 
he  has  a  far  more  varied  problem.  The  vision 
of  life  is  the  present  and  future.  The  realisa- 
tion is  only  beginning,  and  Mr.  Wiles,  with  a 
prophet's  insight,  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  the  pos- 
sible visions  stirring  in  Mr.  Bittinger's  brain. 
The  group  is  well  composed  and  its  pictorial 
quality  is  attractive. 

When  Henry  Golden  Dearth  (1864)  paints 


262       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


decorative  pictures  the  adjective  stands  for 
more  than  a  mere  fetish,  used  as  it  often  is  to- 
day to  cover  up  a  multitude  of  sins  in  art.  And 
again  his  deliberate  return  to  past  ages  for 
tapestry  effect  has  no  hint  of  affectation  or 
at  least  not  of  an  eccentric  desire  to  produce 
something  unusual. 

''Cordelia''  (Fig.  204),  Metropolitan  Mu- 
seum of  Art,  compels  attention.  She  is  most 
picturesque  in  her  red  jacket  and  white  shirt- 
front.  It  is  a  little  daring  for  a  young  woman 
with  pale  blue  eyes  to  wear  a  red  jacket — well, 
we  like  her  staying  qualities  against  the  flat 
wall  and  leather-bound  books.  The  picture 
is  a  bit  of  decoration  that  holds  its  own  even 
in  a  museum — but  then  there  is  no  screaming 
at  each  other  among  the  pictures  now,  for  the 
hanging  committees  are  artists,  and  true  artists 
make  all  things  harmonious.  Somehow  this 
picture  of  Cordelia  calls  to  mind  the  cells  at 
San  Marco,  Florence — each  with  its  single 
Fra  Angelico.   Cordelia  would  fill  a  room. 

Helen  M.  Turner  is  unique ;  she  was  so  even 
in  her  early  training  in  art.  She  says,  "Un- 
like so  many  beginners  I  had  no  desire  to  study 
in  Europe,  feeling  on  the  contrary  that  it  would 
be  something  like  being  plunged  into  a  swiftly 
running  current  before  one  learns  to  swim." 

Miss  Turner  is  a  native  of  Louisville,  Ken- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  263 


tucky,  but  her  childhood  was  lived  in  Louisi- 
ana during  the  awful  readjustment  in  the 
South.  Those  troublous  times  doubtless  helped 
develop  that  stability  of  purpose  in  the  child 
which  is  working  out  in  the  artist's  splendid 
products  to-day. 

When  Miss  Turner  states,  "I  paint  almost 
entirely  in  oil/'  we  feel  like  substituting  the 
word  "model"  for  ''paint"  as  she  works  her  pig- 
ments into  those  strong,  vibrating  human  be- 
ings. She  manipulates  her  paints  with  the  ca- 
ressing touch  of  one  who  feels  in  sympathy 
with  her  medium.  The  inanimate  paint  is  her 
friend  and  responds  to  her  slightest  wish.  This 
seems  to  be  one  of  the  secrets  of  Miss  Turner's 
power  as  an  artist — this  intimate  understand- 
ing of  the  friendliness  of  inanimate  things  or, 
contrariwise,  the  cussedness  of  the  same. 

When  ''A  Lady  with  a  Parasol"  (Fig.  205) 
called  to  see  Miss  Turner,  we  are  sure  the 
caller's  face  and  form  made  a  picture  in  the 
artist's  mind.  The  dull  blue  coat,  offset  by  the 
flower-trimmed  hat,  pink  parasol,  and  bright 
beads,  formed  a  beautiful  pattern  for  a  picture.^ 
Miss  Turner  says,  ''I  am  principally  concerned 
with  the  pattern,  the  great  design,  the  swing 
of  line,  and  the  harmony  of  masses."  And 
yet  her  pictures  are  more  than  all  these,  for  in 
them  is  expressed  the  great  human  side  of  life. 


264        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

So  warm  and  close  is  the  understanding  be- 
tween the  painter  and  her  subjects  that  the  pic- 
ture is  a  living  personality. 

One  of  Miss  Turner's  most  charming  groups 
is  "A  Mother  and  Child,"  in  which  she  ex- 
presses the  very  essence  of  the  joy  of  mother- 
hood. Into  the  face  of  the  mother  as  she 
nurses  her  little  one  has  crept  an  ineffable  pride 
of  ownership;  a  sense  of  the  complete  knowl- 
edge of  parentage  that  is  hers  alone,  with  a 
tenderness  and  apprehension  that  belong  to 
the  true  mother.  And  the  baby  is  a  darling. 
See  him  tug  away  at  his  dinner,  one  eye  buried 
in  the  soft,  warm  pillow  and  the  other  sending 
a  roguish  little  side  glance  up  to  his  mother. 
We  can  hear  the  mother  saying  tenderly,  "Now 
take  your  dinner,  you  little  rogue,  and  stop 
your  play.*'  And  then  she  hugs  him  close  in 
a  warm  embrace. 

^Tauline,"  privately  owned  in  Philadelphia, 
represents  a  fine,  half-grown  girl.  Fearless 
and  unafraid  she  looks  out  on  the  world.  The 
stirrings  of  womanhood  are  unheeded,  though 
faint  warnings  of  a  new  birth  lurk  behind  the 
wide  open  eyes.  "Pauline"  is  a  picture  every 
growing  girl  should  know  and  love.  Simple 
and  straightforward  in  line  and  harmony  of 
colour  the  picture  stands  for  perfect  develop- 
ment with  every  function  working  according 


Fig.  205 — A  Lady  with  a  Parasol.    Turner.    C'cnirtesy  of  the  Artist. 


Fig.  206 — Spanish  Gipsy  Girl.    Henri.    Courtesy  of  the  Delgado  Museum  of 
Art,  New  Orleans, 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  265 

to  natural  laws.  Miss  Turner  is  revealing 
forces  that  stand  for  true  art,  whether  in  life 
or  painting.  Strong,  honest,  true  to  herself, 
she  is  lifting  us  to  her  high  ideal  of  progress. 

One  of  the  very  interesting  loans  in  the 
Delgado  Museum  of  Art,  New  Orleans,  is 
the  picture  of  a  "Spanish  Gipsy  Girl"  (Fig. 
206),  by  Robert  Henri.  Mr.  Henri  stands  for 
modernity  in  the  art  world  to-day.  His  aim 
is  to  gather  up  the  essential  elements  as  they 
impress  him,  and  in  broad  swift  strokes  pre- 
sent the  picture  to  us;  sometimes,  we  must 
admit,  he  is  so  disdainful  of  details  that  we 
fail  to  catch  the  impression — due  perhaps  to 
our  stupidity.  It  is  not  so  in  the  gipsy  girl. 
No  one  could  possibly  mistake  this  child  of 
sunny  Spain.  Again  Murillo's  "Beggar  Boys" 
are  before  us,  but  with  an  added  element  drawn 
from  the  new  world.  Mr.  Henri's  broad  syn- 
thesis of  Spanish  characteristics  in  the  happy- 
go-lucky  children  of  the  vagabond  race — who 
originally  may  have  come  from  Egypt — is  that 
of  one  who  sees  racial  traits  as  well  as  those 
of  environment.  The  picturesque  quality  in 
this  free  child  of  nature  is  perfectly  bewitch- 
ing. The  wide-set  eyes  that  twinkle  with  fun 
index  her  innate  sense  of  the  artistic — not  that 
she  knows  anything  about  being  artistic.  How 
the  dusky  hair,  drawn  back  from  her  low  broad 


266       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


forehead  tones  with  her  brilliant  shawl  and 
brown  skin,  and  how  the  light  loose  frock  in- 
tensifies the  smiling  face!  The  whole  picture 
centres  in  that  face,  for  in  it  the  artist  has 
typified  not  only  the  Spanish  gipsy  girl,  but  a 
particular  gipsy  girl. 

And  again  did  ever  a  child  look  at  you  with 
more  compelling  eyes  than  ''Catherine''  (Fig. 
207)  ?  If  you  gain  the  confidence  of  that  child 
you  must  be  true  to  your  best  self.  In  Mr. 
Henri  is  the  acme  of  modernity.  He  ignores 
detail  to  the  extreme  limit,  yet  he  seldom  fails 
to  give  a  portrait  that  reveals  the  very  soul 
of  his  subject.  There  are  times,  however,  when 
his  spirit  of  daring  savours  of  bravado — more's 
the  pity — and  the  brilliancy  that  was  our  admi- 
ration becomes  like  Apples  of  Sodom. 

Robert  Henri  was  born  in  Cincinnati,  Ohio, 
in  1865,  is  one  of  the  leading  teachers  of 
art  in  America.  His  several  years  of  inde- 
pendent study  in  Italy,  Spain  and  France 
broadened  his  understanding  of  the  funda- 
mentals as  demonstrated  by  the  masters  of  the 
past,  without  in  the  least  undermining  the  true 
American  spirit  of  his  art. 

It  was  said  of  Ghirlandajo's  quick  perception 
of  individualities  that  from  his  studio  window 
he  would  make  speaking  likenesses  of  the 
passing  crowd.    Miss  Martha  Walter  seems 


Fig.  207— Catherine.  Henri. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  267 


to  have  inherited  the  old  Italian  artist's  adept- 
ness.  Her  people,  mostly  women  and  children, 
are  in  the  street  cars,  lolling  on  park  benches 
or  lying  in  the  sun.  Taking  them  unawares, 
she  records  bits  of  humour  and  pathos  play- 
ing upon  their  faces  like  sunshine  and  shadow 
from  the  passing  clouds.  Miss  Walter  paints 
her  people  in  the  direct  light  but  without  the 
dazzle  of  light.  Her  colour  is  warm  and  steady 
and  the  feeling  of  form  is  strong  and  substan- 
tial. 

That  Miss  Walter's  picture  of  the  ''English 
Nurse"  (Fig.  208)  makes  us  wish  that  she  had 
recorded  more  about  the  woman  and  her 
charge  gives  the  keynote  of  the  artist's  art. 
She  certainly  has  the  power  of  selecting  pic- 
torial moments  in  the  acts  of  the  people  around 
her — in  fact  any  moment  is  a  picture  when  she 
touches  it.  Is  it  not  true  though  that  in  some 
of  her  pictures  a  little  more  attention  to  de- 
tails (a  tabooed  word  in  modern  art)  would 
give  greater  pleasure  to  those  who  love  the 
people  she  paints?  After  all  is  said,  pictures 
are  for  the  people. 

It  matters  little  whether  Leopold  Seyf¥ert  is 
painting  a  portrait  of  a  social  leader  or  mak- 
ing a  picture  of  a  "Dutch  Woman"  (Fig.  209). 
In  each  individual  he  gives  the  keynote  of  the 
person's  existence.  The  spark  that  individual- 


268       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


ises  humanity  in  his  eyes  lies  deeper  than  the 
flesh  covered  with  the  conventional  clothes  of 
a  country.  His  Dutch  woman,  I  grant  you,  has 
the  Netherlands  stamped  all  over  her,  yet  she 
stands  for  herself  alone.  Put  her  into  Ameri- 
can clothes  and  she  is  still  the  woman  who 
mothers  the  neighbourhood.  Keen,  kind  and 
courageous  she  has  made  her  way  in  life  in 
spite  of  hardships  and  has  lived  her  own  life 
in  her  own  way. 

Mr.  Seyffert  though  still  very  young  has  a 
keen  sense  for  the  human  element  in  the  world. 
He  has  gone  to  the  market  place  and  among 
the  peasants  in  Spain,  and  has  given  us  many 
pictures  representing  types  of  the  country,  al- 
ways catching  some  vital  point  that  makes  each 
model  a  special  human  being.  This  gift  of  in- 
sight that  has  enabled  Mr.  Seyffert  to  catch 
the  vital  spark  which  distinguishes  individuals 
has  drawn  to  his  studio  numbers  of  well  known 
society  people.  If  only  the  young  artist  will 
hold  himself  steadily  to  quality  in  his  work  and 
not  be  obsessed  with  the  poster-art  tendency 
that  marks  some  of  his  work,  his  future  holds 
great  possibilities. 

Mr.  Seyffert,  a  native  of  West  Philadel- 
phia, had  his  early  training  in  the  Penn- 
sylvania Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  His  trav- 
els in  Europe  broadened  his  perceptive  powers 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  269 


and  gave  him  a  fine  grasp  of  fundamentals. 
We  shall  watch  his  development  with  great 
interest  and  prophesy  that  coming  years  will 
bring  from  his  brush  works  belonging  to  the 
ages. 

To  acquire  a  distinctive  individual  quality  in 
work  without  falling  into  mannerisms  is  the 
mark  of  an  artist  with  real  artistic  instincts. 
This  is  the  quality  Clara  Mamre  Norton  has 
attained  in  her  art.  In  her  portraits  we  feel 
her  warm  intimate  understanding  of  personal 
traits.  She  not  only  puts  her  sitters  at  ease, 
but  they  unconsciously  assume  a  pose — no, 
a  natural  posture — that  reveals  their  inner 
selves.  These  character  glimpses  of  people 
are  exceedingly  interesting  in  studying  Miss 
Norton's  individual  methods  in  her  painting. 

In  her  '^Study  in  Black  and  Gold"  (Fig.  210) 
Miss  Norton's  colour  note  is  full  of  vitality. 
The  delicate  flesh  glows  with  the  warmth  of 
pulsing  blood  and  the  light  caught  in  the  sunny 
hair  sheds  a  radiance  over  the  whole  picture. 
Miss  Norton  was  born  in  New  England  and 
trained  in  Boston  under  Mr.  Edmund  C.  Tar- 
bell.  She  was  awarded  the  travelling  scholar- 
ship from  the  Boston  School  of  the  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts  which  gave  her  two  years  of  in- 
timate study  of  the  old  masters  in  Europe.  She 
now  has  her  studio  in  New  York  City. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


PEARSON— TACK— BITTINGER—BORONDA 
—PETERSON— BERNSTEIN 

nPHE  honour  of  being  an  instructor  in  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 
Philadelphia,  and  the  double  honour  of  the 
Temple  Gold  Medal  and  the  Stotesbury  thou- 
sand dollar  prize  belong  to  Joseph  T.  Pearson, 
Jr.,  who  is  presenting  nature  to  us  from  a  new 
angle.  "But  it  is  Japanese I  hear  you  exclaim. 
Yes,  a  little  in  its  general  character  but  perfect- 
ly Occidental  in  spirit.  "By  the  River"  (Fig. 
21 1 )  would  never  be  mistaken  for  an  Oriental 
scene.  Those  ducks  have  never  crossed  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean — they  belong  nearer  home  than 
that;  and  that  scraggy  tree  trunk  and  those 
bent  branches  covered  with  flat  grey  lichens  are 
too  familiar  objects  to  belong  to  Japan.  And 
again  in  another  of  his  paintings,  "On  the 
River,"  the  picture  that  took  the  above  medal 
and  prize,  we  feel  originality  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  ducks  guarded  by  the  gnarled 
trunk  and  one  broken  branch. 

270 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  271 

Now  stop  again  "By  the  River"  and  see  how 
the  decorative  quality  of  the  picture  pleases 
the  eye.  The  canvas  is  bare  of  objects  almost 
to  desolation  except  for  faint  whispering  of 
habitation  across  the  river  and  in  the  tiny  boat 
beneath.  It  in  indescribable — the  something 
that  makes  this  a  picture.  Four  ducks,  a 
scraggy  tree  trunk,  a  bit  of  water  worn  rock 
and  a  hazy  beyond  are  not  very  suggestive  of 
picture  value,  yet  to  Mr.  Pearson  they  were 
just  the  elements  needed  to  build  into  a  thing 
of  beauty.  It  is  only  when  decoration  is  sub- 
ordinated to  the  principles  of  art  that  it  be- 
comes a  joy  forever. 

Then,  too,  the  sentiment  in  Mr.  Peterson's 
picture  is  wholesome  and  true.  One  of  the 
most  healthful  signs  of  progress  in  most  of  our 
young  artists  is  the  glad,  hopeful  undertone 
that,  like  a  gold  thread,  binds  the  pictures  to 
our  hearts.  When  their  independence  is  that 
of  men  and  women  who  think  clearly  because 
they  are  learning  to  exercise  a  just  sense  of 
proportion,  then  that  independence  results  in 
good  art.  A  just  sense  of  proportion  is  a  car- 
dinal virtue  in  any  walk  of  life.  It  is  the  abil- 
ity to  select  and  eliminate  in  working  out  prob- 
lems until  the  final  results  have  harmony  of 
purpose  that  works  for  the  progress  of  hu- 
manity.   When,  therefore,  a  picture  lifts  the 


272        AMERICAN  PICTURES 


mind  from  the  sordid  into  the  realm  of  hope 
and  joy  the  message  has  been  one  of  strength. 

Mr.  Pearson  had  the  good  fortune  to  study 
under  William  M.  Chase  and  J.  Alden  Weir, 
two  men  who  for  years  have  stood  for  a  prog- 
ress that  steadily  leavens  the  whole  of  life. 
Possibly  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pearson  was  born 
in  the  Centennial  Year,  1876,  in  Germantown, 
may  account  for  the  stirrings  of  genius  in  him. 
Is  it  a  mere  coincidence  that  so  many  of  our 
young  men  and  young  women  who  are  doing 
worth  while  things  to-day  are  products  of 
1876? 

When  an  artist  treats  old  themes  with  a  pe- 
culiar twist  that  is  original  yet  devoid  of  con- 
scious striving  for  effect  the  public  is  inter- 
ested, even  if  it  is  mystified.  That  Augustus 
Vincent  Tack's  (1870)  art  is  pregnant  with 
great  thoughts  and  noble  aspirations  none  will 
question.  His  conception  of  such  themes  as 
"Eve,"  "The  Thief  on  the  Cross,"  "Eternal 
Motherhood,"  and  others  are  of  the  deep  un- 
dertones of  life.  We  feel  dimly  that  his  own 
inner  self  is  communing  with  these  fundamen- 
tals, yet  his  method  sometimes  fails  in  its  con- 
vincing power — in  other  words  his  modus  op- 
erandi does  not  seem  commensurate  with  the 
bigness  of  his  thought.  That  pure  colour  laid 
in  mosaic  does  melt  into  a  harmonious  whole 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  273 

at  a  distance  is  not  sufficient  of  itself  to  make 
that  method  an  entire  success.  Mr.  Tack  for- 
tunately is  an  honest  seeker,  who  we  believe 
is  developing  something  of  real  value  to  artists 
out  of  his  use  of  pure  pigments — often  applied 
directly  from  tube  to  canvas. 

There  is  always  a  sense  of  the  mysterious 
about  Mr.  Tack's  pictures,  a  haunting  vastness 
of  height  and  distance.  ''The  Sea  of  Hills" 
(Fig.  212)  vibrates  with  the  music  of  the 
spheres.  The  ''mystery  of  beauty  and  the 
beauty  of  mystery"  are  in  these  everlasting 
hills  as  they  rise  and  fall  with  the  heart  throbs 
of  the  eternal.  There  is  a  steadying  quality  in 
the  quiet  power  of  the  undulating  mass  that 
speaks  to  our  souls.  Surely  a  thousand  years 
were  but  as  a  watch  in  the  night  in  evolving 
this  sea ! 

Over  and  over  again  Mr.  Tack  deals  with 
elemental  forces  in  his  art.  And  if,  like  Daniel 
Webster,  he  can  simplify  his  expression  of 
them  so  that  the  veriest  rustic  will  say  to  him : 
"You  are  not  very  great,  for  I  understand 
every  word  you  say !"  then  will  he  be  a  master. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  find  a  young  artist  paint- 
ing pictures  of  historical  significance  with  such 
pictorial  value  that  they  are  interesting  and 
attractive.    Charles  F.  Bittinger  made  a  dar- 


274        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

ing  choice  when  he  pitched  his  tent  at  Versailles 
and  set  up  his  easel  in  the  old  palaces. 

Naturally  the  very  name  Versailles  suggests 
a  long  array  of  people  and  events  covering 
nearly  four  centuries  in  the  life  of  the  French 
nation.  From  the  time  when  Louis  XIII 
(1624)  reclaimed  the  swamp  and  built  the  cen- 
tral part — cour  de  marbre — through  its  en- 
largement by  Mansart  to  accommodate  10,000 
guests  for  Louis  XIV,  down  to  the  present  that 
particular  spot,  twelve  miles  south  of  Paris, 
has  been  in  the  public  eye.  It  has  stood  for  the 
French  renaissance  in  literature,  music  and  art 
of  the  seventeenth  century  as  well  as  for  its 
wars,  intrigues  and  licentious  living. 

True,  Mr.  Bittinger  is  not  painting  the  Ver- 
sailles interiors  from  a  historic  standpoint, 
yet  one  cannot  look  at  ''Madame  du  Barry" 
(Fig.  213),  for  instance,  without  being  re- 
minded of  her  baleful  influence  on  Louis  XV 
and  that  "her  very  presence  was  a  stain  upon 
Versailles."  For  two  years  Mr.  Bittinger 
painted  in  this  vast  storehouse  replete  with 
beautiful  finishings  of  rare  marbles,  semi- 
precious stones  and  exquisite  bits  of  hand 
work.  Over  all  the  pictures  lingers  enough  of 
the  spirit  of  the  past  to  pique  one's  curiosity 
and  add  interest  to  the  joy  one  feels  in  their 
beauty. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  275 

Mr.  Bittinger,  born  in  Washington,  D.  C, 
has  distinguished  himself  also  in  his  pictured 
interiors  of  many  of  our  American  homes  of 
wealth.  His  appreciation  of  beauty  has  a  se- 
lective quality  that  enables  him  to  detach  sec- 
tions of  a  whole  and  make  of  them  complete 
pictures. 

When  Lester  Boronda  painted  *'The  Fan- 
dango" (Fig.  214)  he  gave  a  sense  of  motion 
that  is  almost  uncanny  in  its  aliveness.  The 
young  woman  sways  and  glides  as  one  under 
the  spell  of  alluring  music  and  an  admiring 
crowd.  There  is  nothing  of  pose,  nothing  to 
suggest  arrested  action,  just  a  rhythmic  aban- 
don where  the  whole  being  is  attune  to  the 
spirit  of  motion.  The  hooped  skirt  has  scarcely 
stopped  swinging  or  the  shaking  tambourine  its 
tinkling.  The  twinkling  colours  sparkle  and 
glitter  until  we  are  made  to  feel  the  very  es- 
sence of  joy  in  the  dance. 

Mr.  Boronda,  born  in  California,  and  a  num- 
ber of  other  young  American  artists  are  com- 
ing to  the  front  with  strong  individual  work 
full  of  the  harmony  of  good  art.  Modern? 
Of  course  they  are!  But  their  modernity  is 
tempered  with  sufficient  common  sense  to 
steady  them  and  help  them  realise  that  new 
movements  must  be  governed  by  a  proper  sense 
of  proportion.    Monstrosity  in  art  is  no  more 


276       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

true  art  than  monstrosity  in  nature  is  true 
nature. 

A  roomful  of  Jane  Peterson's  pictures  fairly 
intoxicates  one  with  colour  and  yet  she  seldom 
sets  her  pallette  with  more  than  three  colours. 
Many  of  the  hues  separately  would  be  startling 
in  vividness,  yet  under  her  manipulation  they 
are  playing  hide  and  seek  with  the  shadows 
and  gloom.  Miss  Peterson's  whole  nature  is 
attune  to  the  colourfulness  of  nature.  She  has 
been  absorbing  varying  colour  schemes  for 
years  in  her  travels  north  and  south  from 
Alaska  to  Africa,  west  and  east  from  Califor- 
nia to  Italy,  staying  long  enough  in  each  place 
for  the  changing  seasons  to  express  themselves. 
She  makes  one  feel  the  rich,  dusky,  sun-kissed 
native  of  the  tropics,  and,  again,  the  ice-king 
compels  us  to  draw  our  fur  closer  before  the 
row  of  shanties  bordering  the  ocean  front  or 
hugging  the  foot  of  the  snow  mountains. 

It  is  when  Miss  Peterson  takes  the  water- 
front of  some  old  coast  towns  along  the  At- 
lantic and  shows  us  life  in  the  living  among 
the  sturdy  folk  of  the  sea  that  she  warms  our 
hearts.  Could  anything  bring  us  closer  to  hu- 
man beings,  whether  summer-resorter  or  those 
of  the  homes  near  by,  than  the  hurrying  people 
of  ''A  Busy  Street"  in  Edgartown,  Martha's 
Vineyard  (Fig.  215)?    It  has  been  raining. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  277 


The  wet  street  catches  the  glint  of  the  bright 
costumes  and  laughs  gaily  in  the  very  faces  of 
the  old  houses.  And  what  delicious  faces  they 
have,  lemon-yellow,  rose-pink  and  dull  grey! 
And  what  a  sense  of  stability  they  give  to  the 
otherwise  restless  scene!  Straight  lined  and 
square  bodied  they  stand  like  soldiers  at  atten- 
tion. And  the  converging  wires  across  the  cor- 
ner opposite,  how  they  liven  the  solidity  of 
facts  with  the  gossip  of  trifles ! 

At  one  time  Miss  Peterson  devoted  much 
time  painting  gardens  until  her  grasp  of  na- 
ture's prodigality  under  encouragement  gave 
a  perfect  tangle  of  growth  and  luxuriance  of 
colour  notes.  To  keep  pace  with  the  artist's 
variety  of  subjects,  one  must  follow  in  her 
wake  as  she  travels.  She  is  also  equally  at 
home  in  working  in  oil  or  water  colours,  though 
the  former  medium  gives  a  feeling  of  stability 
against  the  ravages  of  time. 

Miss  Peterson  is  a  native  of  Elgin,  Illinois, 
and  received  her  initial  training  in  her  art  in 
America  and  then  began  her  travels  abroad. 
It  was  her  good  fortune  to  have  F.  Hopkin- 
son  Smith  as  a  friend  while  she  was  in  Venice, 
and,  later  in  Spain,  to  work  with  Sorolla.  In 
the  latter  she  found  a  congenial  artistic  spirit 
and  with  him,  though  her  own  tendencies  were 
already  well  established,  she  gained  a  feeling 


278       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

of  confidence  in  herself  that  has  been  invalu- 
able. We  shall  watch  eagerly  the  development 
of  Miss  Peterson's  art.  She  has  struck  a  note 
that  is  simple  and  understandable  to  the  public. 

Let  us  stop  a  moment  and  look  into  "The 
Opera  Lobby  (Eig.  216)  as  painted  by 
Theresa  Bernstein.  The  artist  came  one  day, 
bought  her  ticket  expecting  to  enjoy  the  opera, 
but  the  lobby  held  her — and  no  v^onder.  She 
has  made  us  see  it.  I  doubt  if  you  or  I  would 
have  seen  it  without  her  help.  "Composition, 
design  and  colour,''  Miss  Bernstein  says,  are 
the  three  necessary  attributes  for  her  to  see  a 
picture  in  embryo.  Now  look  again  at  the 
lobby.  The  door  in  the  background  with  the 
artificial  light  behind  it,  the  stairway  leading 
to  balconies,  the  open  space,  all  form  the  com- 
position as  a  whole.  The  grouping  of  people, 
two  men  at  the  left,  a  man  and  a  red-headed 
woman,  a  couple  climbing  the  stairs,  all  are 
held  together  by  a  one  tint  floor  covering  like 
a  pattern  for  a  tapestry  design.  Then  the 
weaving  in  and  out  of  the  colour  problem! 
The  men  at  the  right,  in  black,  on  the  red  car- 
pet, the  shimmery  pink  and  white  woman  in 
the  decollete  gown,  the  sparkle  of  the  electric 
light  through  the  door-glass  delight  the  mind 
like  a  delicious  taste  to  the  tongue.  Beyond 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  279 


all,  however,  is  the  human  element,  the  vital 
touch  that  binds  the  group  together  and  brings 
it  in  close  touch  with  us.  We  recognise  that 
the  two  men  are  talking  stocks  in  Wall  Street 
vernacular  rather  than  about  the  opera,  that 
the  man  at  the  left  is  ingratiating  himself  into 
the  good  graces  of  the  red-headed  woman,  that 
the  people  on  the  stairs  are  finding  them  rather 
long  and  steep — in  fact,  a  certain  haunting 
familiarity  pervades  the  scene. 

Miss  Bernstein  loves  scenes  where  people 
gather  by  common  consent.  She  loiters  in  the 
ticket-office,  in  the  elevated  train,  and  particu- 
larly among  the  crowd  gathered  at  the  beach. 
Of  these  beach  scenes  she  has  painted  a  score 
or  more.  She  uses  the  restlessness  of  the  crowd 
and  the  ceaseless  motion  of  the  ocean  as  under- 
tones giving  life  to  the  whole.  One  feels  the 
constant  shifting  of  position  that  is  so  charac- 
teristic of  people  on  the  beach.  This  moving 
crowd  might  of  itself  be  irritating  were  it  not 
that  the  artist  has  tempered  it  all  with  the  rest- 
ful sky  line  and  gently  swaying  clouds.  Miss 
Bernstein  is  a  native  of  Philadelphia  and 
studied  painting  in  the  American  art  schools; 
she  then  travelled  in  Europe.  Though  quite 
young,  she  already  has  a  broad  grasp  of  funda- 
mental principles  in  art. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


SLOAN— CONGDON— FRY— EYRE— ROU- 
LAND— DAVEY 

ALBRECHT  DliRER,  though  not  the  in- 
ventor of  engraving,  was  the  first  artist 
in  whose  hands  the  etching  needle  became  the 
medium  of  true  artistic  expression.  From  his 
time  (1471-1528)  on  it  has  been  used  more  or 
less  by  individual  artists  of  all  countries  and 
now  quite  an  unusual  number  of  our  modern 
American  painters  are  adopting  its  use,  some 
of  whom,  like  Whistler  and  Joseph  Pennell, 
have  already  acquired  international  fame.  In 
fact,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  our  artists 
is  to  become  versed  in  the  various  modes  of  ex- 
pression, ancient  and  modern,  that  belong  to 
pictorial  art.  This  spirit  of  investigation  and 
enlarged  field  of  action  in  a  particular  calling, 
and  also  in  general,  is  a  good  outlook  for 
broader  ideas  of  citizenship. 

"Know  one  thing  well,  then  as  much  as  pos- 
sible of  everything"  is  a  good  motto  in  the 
study  of  art  if  it  is  followed  equally  well  in 

280 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  281 


both  propositions.  It  is  always  a  joy  to  find 
an  artist  specialising  without  detriment  to  his 
art  as  a  whole.  It  is  fine  to  be  a  specialist  but 
no  one  wants  the  other  faculties  atrophied 
while  becoming  efficient  in  a  particular  line. 
We  feel  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  work  of 
John  Sloan  because  he  is  a  master  in  each 
branch  he  undertakes  and  still  keeps  himself 
close  to  the  human  side  of  life.  Whether  using 
the  brush  or  the  etching  needle,  he  sees  people ; 
he  portrays  them  coming  and  going,  bent  on 
business  and  pleasure,  with  such  accuracy  that 
we  recognise  the  impulse  governing  their  ac- 
tions. Individually  and  collectively  Mr.  Sloan 
presents  life  to  us. 

Look  at  the  "Portrait  Drawing  of  Paul  de 
Kock"  (Fig.  217),  in  the  Metropolitan  Mu- 
seum of  Art.  Was  everj  the  characteristic 
traits  of  a  writer  more  keenly  noted  than  in 
this  chalk  drawing?  Strong,  free  and  simple 
it  reveals  the  heart  of  the  man  and  the  intense 
desire  of  the  artist  to  speak  the  truth  sin- 
cerely. Unlike  Hogarth  Mr.  Sloan's  humour 
is  always  kindly,  but  then,  bad  as  we  are,  the 
state  of  America  to-day  is  not  that  of  Eng- 
land in  Hogarth's  time.  One  of  Mr.  Sloan's 
specially  telling  etchings  is  "Fifth  Avenue  Crit- 
ics," belonging  to  his  New  York  set  of  thir- 
teen etchings,  in  which  is  represented  a  ba- 


282       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


rouche  with  two  grand  dames  and  a  liveried 
coachman  meeting  a  pretty,  meek  Httle  lady, 
with  a  fluffy  dog,  in  a  hired  hansom.  The  look 
of  disdain  on  the  wrinkled  faces  of  the  critics 
is  ludicrous  in  the  extreme,  especially  as  seen 
against  the  perked  up  ears  of  the  horse  of  the 
hansom  which  is  in  line  with  their  faces. 

Mr.  Sloan  was  born  at  Lockhaven,  Penn'a, 
in  1 87 1,  and  was  trained  in  the  Pennsylvania 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  He  makes  his  home 
in  New  York  City.  Much  of  his  time  to-day 
is  devoted  to  painting  landscapes  and  New 
York  street  scenes. 

Thomas  R.  Congdon  is  another  American 
artist  whose  use  of  the  etching  needle  is  that 
of  a  master.  It  is  only  recently  that  we  have 
him  with  us  again,  but  his  long  stay  in  Paris  is 
easily  forgiven  because  of  the  fruitfulness  of 
the  sojourn  and  the  honour  bestowed  on  him 
while  there.  It  is  a  delight,  too,  to  look  at  dear, 
charming  Paris  through  his  American  eyes — 
an  artist  does  not  lose  his  national  traits  when 
out  of  his  own  country — and  feel  the  same 
thrill  creep  over  us  that  we,  as  travellers,  felt 
when  standing  by  the  Seine,  or  in  front  of 
Saint  Etienne  du  Mont,  or  looking  across  the 
little  pond  to  the  Palais  de  Luxembourg.  All 
these  points  of  view  so  dear  to  us  Mr.  Congdon 
has  made  doubly  dear  with  his  etching  needle. 


Fig.  219— a  Dryad.  Fry. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  283 

Now  let  us  go  to  dear,  old  London  and  lazily 
sail  along  the  Thames.  Mr.  Congdon  shows 
us  the  same  old  "Factories  on  the  Thames" 
(Fig.  218),  only  he  has  helped  us  to  see  more 
of  the  beauty  of  the  English  atmosphere  that 
clings  to  and  embraces  them.  Did  we  ever  see 
that  enchanting  light  and  shade?  And  yet 
it  was  there  waiting  for  a  master  to  catch  it 
and  hand  it  down  to  posterity  to  enjoy.  How 
the  black  smoke  blotches  the  dull  sky  or  mer- 
rily sails  away  in  thin  streaks;  and  how  the 
old  buildings  snuggle  against  each  other  just 
as  the  anchor  piles  stand  together  for  strength 
in  the  foreground.  Who  cares  that  the  air 
IS  full  of  the  smudge  of  soft  coal  ?  The  hum  of 
the  machines  sings  of  the  poetry  of  labour. 
We  are  glad  to  welcome  Mr.  Congdon  home 
again,  for  no  doubt  he  will  now  help  us  to 
look  at  our  own  land  with  more  seeing  eyes. 

It  is  very  refreshing  nowadays  to  find  an 
up-to-date  artist  filled  with  the  ideals  of  the 
past.  ''Something  new"  may  be  a  good  slo- 
gan to  keep  us  from  growing  stale  and  shelf- 
worn,  but  we  need  to  cling  to  the  master  ideals 
of  the  past — ideals  that  are  founded  on  fun- 
damentals as  solid  as  the  eternal  hills.  In  the 
works  of  John  Hemming  Fry  we  see  that  he 
has  communed  with  the  Greeks.  His  com- 
munion has  been  that  of  a  seeker  after  truth. 


284       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

He  IS  no  imitator  or  copyist  but  one  whose 
soul  is  filled  with  the  beauty  of  the  human 
form  with  the  touch  of  divinity  still  clinging 
to  it.  The  dear  old  stories  that  belong  to  the 
childhood  of  the  world,  that  we  all  love,  have 
taken  on  a  deeper  significance  under  his  brush. 

Was  ever  a  ''Dryad''  (Fig.  219)  more  beau- 
tiful or  more  human  than  Mr.  Fry's  interpre- 
tation of  her?  Exquisite  in  form  and  pure  in 
motive  she  is  an  intimate  part  of  her  beloved 
trees;  with  them  as  part  of  their  life  she  came 
into  existence  and  when  they  die  she  will  die 
too.  Mr.  Fry,  however,  has  given  to  her  an 
element  that  was  unknown  to  the  Greeks — the 
new  birth  that  springs  from  defeats  and 
thwarted  ideals  into  a  stronger  womanhood. 
Over  and  over  again  he  uses  mythological 
themes,  but  shot  through  them  all  is  this  firmer 
realisation  of  ideals  that  is  our  heritage.  See 
the  glorious  light  flooding  the  background  and 
gradually  embracing  the  trees  and  flowers  and 
dryad  in  its  vivifying  influence. 

And  again  in  ''The  Eternal  Drift"  (Fig. 
220)  the  warm,  luscious  flesh  and  firm  elastic 
bodies  of  the  nymphs  are  reminiscent  of  far- 
off  Greece,  but  with  a  fuller  understanding  of 
woman's  reclaiming  power.  Rarely  did  the 
Greek  artists  give  greater  satisfaction  in  phys- 
ical perfection  and  charm  of  femininity  than  is 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  285 

in  these  two  lovely  beings.  Mr.  Fry's  inspira- 
tion is  drawn  from  the  fountain  head,  conse- 
quently his  nude  figures  are  as  pure  as  the 
water  springing  from  that  source.  Beauti- 
ful and  chased  yet  mortal  beings  with  possi- 
bilities of  evil  but  with  greater  probabilities 
for  good.  It  matters  little  to  what  age  these 
lovely  creatures  of  the  eternal  drift  belong; 
they  are  always  a  definite  part  of  the  great 
problems  of  life  and  ever  to  be  reckoned  with. 
It  is  when  an  artist,  whose  heart  is  warm  to- 
ward humanity,  transmutes  these  frailties  into 
a  power  for  good  that  physical  perfection  in 
art  reaches  its  goal.  The  Greeks  ignored  the 
evil  in  perfecting  the  body;  Mr.  Fry  makes  it 
beautiful  in  spite  of  its  weaknesses.  A  certain 
wistfulness  has  crept  into  the  faces  of  his  mod- 
ern nymphs  and  dryads  and  mythical  maidens 
that  makes  us  feel  they  are  our  sisters  and  we 
love  them.  Mr.  Fry's  figures  are  such  an  in- 
timate part  of  the  scene  that  the  bit  of  land- 
scape, or  shore  inlet,  or  ocean  expanse  would 
be  void  without  them.  They  are  vital  prod- 
ucts of  the  trees  and  the  foam  and  the  tumbling 
waves.  His  colour  scheme  is  low  and  rich  yet 
his  effects  are  full  of  vitality  and  strength. 

When  Elizabeth  Eyre  painted  ''The  Upper 
Box"  (Fig.  221 )  she  gave  a  picture  of  the  sur- 
feited opera  habitues  that  words  fail  to  express. 


286       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


Boredom  to  extinction  is  written  large  on  every 
line  of  the  young  man  leaning  on  his  hand. 
And  one  can  almost  hear  the  war  of  words  be- 
tween the  couple  at  the  right ;  and  the  tolerant 
smile  of  the  older  man  is  that  of  one  satiated 
yet  hoping  for  new  sensations.  Miss  Eyre  has 
certainly  used  her  eyes  in  studying  the  box  fre- 
quenters of  opera  and  theatre.  And  how 
unique  is  her  arrangement  and  simple  her  de- 
sign. Surely  our  architects  would  do  well  to 
study  this  upper  box  as  a  model  in  simplicity. 
Possibly  a  little  of  the  depressing  influences  of 
too  frequent  attendance  at  play  houses  might 
be  alleviated  if  the  rococo  decorations  were 
done  away  with.  At  least  the  artistic  effect 
of  beautiful  gowns  would  be  greatly  enhanced 
in  simpler  surroundings  and  incidentally  add 
pleasure  to  being  the  most  elegantly  attired 
lady  in  the  house.  Miss  Eyre  sets  her  palette 
in  a  rather  low  key  which  intensifies  the  sil- 
houette of  flesh  tones.  Her  appreciation  of 
moods  as  expressed  in  face  and  body  is  exceed- 
ingly keen  and  promises,  in  the  coming  years, 
that  delineation  of  character  will  be  a  strong 
feature  of  her  art.  After  all,  it  is  the  clear  eye 
and  steady  brain  of  the  artist  who  has  given 
and  is  giving  historical  sketches  of  worth  to 
the  world. 

Orlando  Rouland  is  a  member  of  the  AlHed 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  287 


Artists  of  America.  This  association  broke 
away,  a  little  rebelliously,  from  the  parent 
stock,  the  Academy  of  Design,  several  years 
ago.  The  basic  cause  of  the  rupture  was  jus- 
tifiable, for  parents  forget  sometimes  that  their 
oif spring  can  think.  Fortunately  the  relation- 
ship between  the  two  associations  to-day  is 
friendly  and  both  hold  their  annual  exhibitions 
in  the  Academy  on  S/th  Street,  New  York  City. 
Not  all  the  work  presented  to  the  public  by 
the  young  society  is  praiseworthy  or  even 
above  mediocre,  any  more  than  that  of  the 
Academy,  but  the  sifting  process  is  more  ener- 
getic when  the  sieve  is  in  younger  hands. 

As  we  study  ''Guided  by  the  Stars''  (Fig. 
222)  we  feel  that  the  strength  of  young  blood, 
steadied  by  responsibility,  is  before  us.  Mr. 
Rouland  understands  the  power  of  silent  con- 
templation. He  is  not  afraid  of  making  his 
people  think.  This  young  chief,  for  chief  he 
certainly  is  in  features  and  bearing,  is  using  his 
mind  as  a  perfectly  balanced  instrument  under 
the  control  of  the  manipulator.  There  is  no 
hesitancy  or  vacillation,  for  by  no  possible 
chance  can  he  go  astray  with  the  eternal  heav- 
ens as  a  map  and  the  trained  indicator  as  a 
guide.  How  well  the  self-contained,  forceful 
traveller  fits  the  solitude  of  that  snowy  height! 
One's  own  convictions  grow  stronger  under 


288       AMERICAN  PICTURES 


the  influence  of  this  solitary  seeker  after  wis- 
dom. Studying  the  heavens  brought  this  people 
near  the  Great  Spirit  just  as  it  compelled  the 
psalmist  of  old  to  exclaim, 


"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God; 

And  the  firmament  sheweth  his  handiwork. 
Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech, 

And  night  unto  night  sheweth  knowledge.'* 


Mr.  Rouland's  message  to  the  world  is  big 
and  wholesome ;  it  reaches  deep  into  our  heart 
of  hearts  because  he  touches  the  mainspring 
of  life — the  Eternal  God — and  we  too  exclaim 
with  the  shining  host  of  twinkling  stars, 

**The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine." 


It  is  interesting  the  many  and  varied  ways 
of  approach  the  artists  are  using  to-day  in  pre- 
senting life  to  us.  They  are  not  painting  a 
dead  world  but  one  palpitating  with  vitality. 
Still  life  is  a  paradox,  for  life  is  motion  and 
not  even  material  things  are  still.  Then,  too, 
still  life  subjects  are  vibrant  with  atmospheric 
quiverings. 

And  again  our  artists  are  becoming  thinkers. 
Of  course  at  first  certain  mannerisms  of  the 
teacher  cling  to  them  but  these  disappear  as 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  289 

the  individuality  grows.  I  am  not  speaking 
of  the  would-be  artists  who  are  falling  by  the 
way — and  some  in  this  book  may  be  among  that 
number — but  of  those  who  have  come  to  stay. 
A  true  artist  is  a  thinker;  he  works  out  his  own 
problems  and  when  his  solution  is  accepted  by 
the  thinking  public,  educated  or  uneducated, 
he  has  arrived. 

Randall  Davey  is  doing  some  of  this  think- 
ing. His  character  sketches  are  like  biograph- 
ical notes  in  their  portrayal  of  individual  traits, 
yet  they  evince  the  intimate  knowledge  of  ra- 
cial peculiarities  of  one  versed  in  the  study  of 
physiognomy.  No  one  could  mistake  the  "Old 
Sea  Captain"  (Fig.  223),  in  the  Corcoran  Gal- 
lery, Washington,  D.  C.  He  and  his  fore- 
bears have  for  centuries  fought  the  sea  and 
with  dogged  determination  have  kept  it  at  bay. 
Every  inch  of  him  is  as  solid  as  the  hills  and 
with  a  heart  as  warm  and  tender  as  a  child's. 
He  no  doubt  was  a  special  friend  of  Mr. 
Davey's,  yet  he  represents  the  whole  race  of 
Gloucester  Sea  Captains.  There  is  a  certain 
vigour  of  purpose  in  his  makeup  that  speaks 
in  no  uncertain  tone  of  the  sturdy  little  town 
that  has  held  its  own  against  odds  that  would 
have  conquered  bigger  places. 

Mr.  Davey  is  developing  an  individual  art 
while  using  subjects  that  are  common  to  a  num- 


290       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

ber  of  painters  to-day.  His  two  years'  sojourn 
in  the  Netherlands  and  later  in  Spain  have  not 
only  opened  his  mind  to  perceive  the  underlying 
reasons  of  racial  differences,  but  they  started 
an  individual  growth  in  Mr.  Davey  of  good 
judgment  and  clear  thinking  that  is  becoming 
more  pronounced  each  season.  Is  anything  of 
greater  value  than  healthful  growth  in  the  de- 
velopment of  a  nation?  And  as  nations  are 
made  up  of  individuals  nothing  can  be  more  en- 
couraging than  to  say  to  a  fellow  worker, 
*'You  have  grown!''  Mr.  Davey  is  young  in 
years  and  is  full  of  the  enthusiasm  of  youth. 
One  feels  the  impetuous  blood  of  an  undaunted 
conqueror  in  his  rich  colour,  his  daring  compo- 
sitions, and  his  rather  unusual  technique.  At 
times  his  conquering  is  a  little  ruthless,  yet  the 
spirit  of  honest  courage  and  an  undertone  of 
good  sense  and  sincerity  generally  prevails. 

We  are  very  proud  of  the  large  company  of 
young  American  thinkers  who  are  working  out 
their  own  salvation  in  their  art.  The  majority 
of  them  have  scarcely  reached  two  score  years 
of  life,  yet  they  already  stand  for  progress. 
While  a  list  of  names  means  little  in  general 
when  it  comprises  men  and  women  whom  the 
public  is  watching  expectantly,  it  holds  big 
possibilities.    To  such  a  list  belong  Harry 


Fig.  223 — An  Old  Sea  Captain.    Davcy.   Courteav  of  the  Corcoran  Art  Gallery, 
Washington,  D.  C. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  291 


Townsend,  Howard  Giles,  Leon  Gaspard,  Jules 
Turcas,  B.  Gutmann,  Guy  Wiggins,  Arthur 
Crisp,  Ossip  L.  Linde,  Althea  H.  Piatt,  Clif- 
ford W.  Ashley,  A.  Hanson,  W.  G.  Beuley, 
George  Elmer  Brown,  C.  C.  Campbell,  A.  Ba- 
rone,  and  many  others  of  equal  merit. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


ULTRA-MODERN  ART 

MARIN— BENTON— ZORACH— RAY— WRIGHT 
—RUSSELL 

T  JNREST  IS  not  a  modern  state  of  being; 

and  it  is  not  confined  to  a  special  country 
or  people.  Unrest  is  both  destructive  and  con- 
structive. If,  like  the  prodigal  son,  it  wastes 
itself  in  riotous  living  it  retards  progress  and 
comes  to  naught.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  like 
the  pioneer  it  conserves  as  it  breaks  into  new 
fields,  it  comes  to  fruition. 

Progress,  therefore,  depends  upon  the  char- 
acter of  the  spirit  of  unrest.  That  a  certain 
amount  of  destructive  unrest  is  necessary  for 
healthful  advance  is  true,  but  it  is  equally  true 
that  the  inconoclastic  spirit  often  works  dis- 
aster for  lack  of  steadying  qualities. 

Unrest  in  the  art  world  began  with  the  be- 
ginnings of  the  race.  In  fact  its  very  being 
sprang  from  the  desire  to  tell  others  the  where- 
abouts of  the  restless  seekers  for  new  fields  of 

292 


AMERICAN  PICTURES  293 


action.  Down  through  Assyria,  Babylonia, 
Persia,  Egypt,  and  Greece  came  this  spirit  of 
unrest,  at  times  reaching,  through  construc- 
tion, states  of  perfection  that  stand  out  as 
mountain  peaks,  and  again  leaving  direst 
wastes  in  its  path. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  with  such  an  in- 
heritance America  should  feel  unrest  stirring 
in  its  very  vitals.  "Up-and-doing''  is  the 
watchword  in  every  branch  of  life  in  this  vast 
country.  Not  always  does  the  doing  come  to 
fruition,  yet  the  whole  body  politic  is  the  bet- 
ter for  action.  Possibly  the  beginnings  of  the 
present  unrest  in  art  came  from  the  Paris  of 
the  last  century  when  scores  of  our  artists, 
eagerly  receptive,  were  absorbing  the  insurgent 
spirit  of  new  France.  That  this  insurgent 
spirit  in  the  final  reckoning  spells  progress  no 
one  will  question,  yet  it  is  true  that  the  work- 
ings of  the  spirit  are  generally  misunderstood. 
This  misunderstanding  is  often  due  to  ignorant 
misinformation  and  lack  of  explanation  by  the 
workers  themselves.  It  is  not  fair  to  the  public 
to  keep  it  in  ignorance,  for  the  average  mind 
is  capable  of  judging. 

In  approaching  the  new  movement  of  the 
ultra-modern  artists  one  must  ever  bear  in 
mind  that  these  men  are  dealing  with  funda- 
mental principles.    Unvarnished,  unadorned 


294       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

elemental  truths,  as  they  see  them,  are  ex- 
pressed in  all  their  works.  The  six  represen- 
tative men  chosen  stand  for  different  phases 
in  the  development  of  Modern  American  Art ; 
and  in  these  painters'  own  words  and  works  I 
present  them  to  my  readers.  Also  I  advocate 
public  inspection  of  the  works  of  these  modern 
painters.  '^The  establishment  of  galleries  is 
desirable,"  says  Mr.  Robert  Henri,  ''where 
small  groups  of  artists,  self-selected  and  self- 
organised,  might  have  space  on  demand  to 
present  their  works  for  public  inspection, 
where  the  people  would  be  invited  to  come,  see, 
and  in  the  act  of  personal  judgment  develop 
the  taste  that  is  latent  in  them,  rather  than 
accept  the  dictates  of  those  who  have  assumed 
authority  as  juries  of  admission,  juries  of 
award,  and  critics." 

In  the  Forum  Exhibition  of  Modern  Ameri- 
can Painters,  the  spring  of  1916,  the  exhibitors 
not  only  exhibited  their  paintings  but  gave  the 
reasons  for  the  faith  that  is  in  them. 

To  appreciate  ''Marin's  Island  (Maine),"  by 
John  Marin  (Fig.  224),  we  must  read  what  the 
painter  himself  says  of  his  works: 

"These  works  are  meant  as  constructed  ex- 
pressions of  the  inner  senses,  responding  to  the 
things  seen  and  felt.  One  responds  differently 
toward  different  things;  one  even  responds  dif- 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  295 

ferently  toward  the  same  thing.  In  reality  it 
is  the  same  thing  no  longer ;  you  are  in  a  differ- 
ent mood,  and  it  is  in  a  different  mood." 

"If  you  follow  a  certain  path  you  come  to 
something.  The  path  moves  toward  direction, 
and  if  you  follow  direction  you  come  to  some- 
thing; and  the  path  is  through  something,  un- 
der something  and  over  something.  And  these 
somethings  you  either  respond  to  or  you  don't. 
There  are  great  movements  and  small  move- 
ments, great  things  and  small  things — all  bear- 
ing intimacy  in  their  separations  and  joinings. 
In  all  things  there  exists  the  central  power,  the 
big  force,  the  big  movement ;  and  to  this  central 
power  all  the  small  factors  have  relation.'' 

'^Thus  it  is  in  life.  Life  is  like  a  path  which 
one  follows.  All  things  one  meets  are  relative 
and  interdependent.  They  may  be  good  or  bad, 
but  they  are  never  perfect.  It  is  the  same  with 
the  artist's  expression :  it,  too,  may  be  good  or 
bad,  but  it  is  never  perfect." 

"However,  the  paths  and  the  factors  of  life 
may  broaden.  They  may  become  more  and 
more  revealing.  Some  may  travel  and  find, 
others  may  travel  and  never  find  the  things 
relative  to  them.  Thus  the  journey  may  be 
sensed  or  not  sensed,  expressed  or  not  ex- 
pressed." 

"So,  in  all  human  consciousness  there  are  the 


296        AMERICAN  PICTURES 

seekers  and  those  who  do  not  seek,  the  finders 
and  those  who  do  not  find/' 

''Coming  down  to  my  work,  you  have  these 
pictures.  They  are  the  products  of  a  seeker 
or  finder,  or  of  a  man  who  neither  seeks  nor 
finds." 

We  turn  to  "Figure  Organisation"  (Fig. 
225),  by  Thomas  H.  Benton,  and  read: 

"My  experience  has  proved  the  impractica- 
bility of  depending  upon  intellectualist  formu- 
las for  guidance,  and  I  find  it  therefore  impos- 
sible to  ally  myself  definitely  with  any  particu- 
lar school  of  aesthetics,  either  in  its  interpre- 
tative or  constructive  aspect." 

"I  may  speak  generally  of  my  aim  being  to- 
ward achievement  of  a  combat,  massive  and 
rhythmical  composition  of  forms  in  which  the 
tactile  sensations  of  alternate  bulgings  and  re- 
cessions shall  be  exactly  related  to  the  force  of 
the  line  limiting  the  space  in  which  these  ac- 
tivities take  place.  As  the  idea  of  form  cannot 
be  grasped  without  mental  action  on  the  part 
of  the  beholder;  as  its  comprehension,  that  is, 
implies  the  necessity  of  a  more  intense  mental 
state  that  is  requisite  for  the  enjoyment  of  sim- 
ple loveliness  of  colour,  I  value  its  develop- 
ment, manipulation,  etc.,  as  by  far  the  most 
important  element  entering  into  the  construc- 
tion of  a  work  of  art." 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  297 

^'The  generation  of  the  idea  of  form  depends 
upon  comparison  of  contoural  or  linear  exten- 
sion, their  force,  direction  and  the  like;  this 
generation  is  caused  by  attention  to  boundaries 
of  shapes;  the  pre-eminent  stimulus  to  realis- 
ing a  cubic  existence  is  line — therefore  I  make 
the  production  of  interesting  line  relations  the 
first  business  in  my  painting.  Colour  I  use 
simply  to  reinforce  the  solidity  and  special  po- 
sition of  forms  predetermined  by  line/' 

"I  believe  the  importance  of  drawing,  of  line, 
cannot  be  overestimated,  because  of  its  above- 
mentioned  control  of  the  idea  of  form,  and  I 
believe  that  no  loveliness  of  colour  can  com- 
pensate for  deficiency  in  this  respect.  While 
considering  colour  of  secondary  constructive 
importance,  I  realise,  nevertheless,  its  value  in 
heightening  the  intensity  of  volume,  and  am,  to 
a  certain  extent,  in  accordance  with  all  those 
developments  which,  emanating  from  Cezanne, 
tend  to  accentuate  its  functioning  power." 

'*I  believe  that  particular  attention  to  consist- 
ency in  method  is  bad,  and  for  this  reason  em- 
ploy any  means  that  may  accentuate  or  lessen 
the  emotive  power  of  the  integral  parts  of  my 
work." 

"In  conclusion  I  wish  to  say  that  I  make  no 
distinctions  as  to  the  value  of  subject-matter. 
I  believe  that  the  representation  of  objective 


298       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

forms  and  the  presentation  of  abstract  ideas  of 
form  to  be  of  equal  artistic  value." 

William  Zorach's  word  picture  of  "Spring'' 
as  it  appeals  to  him  in  nature  is  represented  in 
his  painting  "Spring"  (Fig.  226).    He  says: 

"It  is  the  inner  spirit  of  things  that  I  seek 
to  express,  the  essential  relation  of  forms  and 
colours  to  universal  things.  Each  form  and 
colour  has  a  spiritual  significance  to  me,  and  I 
try  to  combine  those  forms  and  colours  within 
my  space  to  express  that  inner  feeling  which 
something  in  nature  or  life  has  given  me." 

"The  moment  I  place  one  line  or  colour  upon 
canvas,  that  moment  I  feel  the  need  of  other 
lines  and  colours  to  express  inner  rhythm.  I 
am  organising  a  new  world  in  which  each  form 
and  colour  exists  and  lives  only  in  so  far  as  it 
has  a  meaning  in  relation  to  every  other  form 
and  colour  in  that  space." 

"In  the  spring  one  feels  the  freshness  of 
young  growing  things,  the  ascending  stream 
of  life,  the  expanding  of  leaves  and  trees,  the 
spirit  and  passions  in  the  lives  and  volumes  of 
rolling  hills.  All  these  are  wonderful  forms 
that  act  and  react  upon  each  other  like  sounds 
from  a  violin.  I  see  the  young  child  and  its 
mother,  I  see  the  flowers,  the  birds,  the  young 
calf  born  in  the  field,  I  see  the  young  calf  pranc- 
ing and  feel  the  wild  blood  rushing  through 


Fig.  227 — Dance  Interpretation.  -  Ray. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  299 

my  veins.  Then  again,  it  is  the  strangeness  of 
mountains,  their  bigness  and  solemness  and 
depth,  their  height,  and  the  strange  Hght  upon 
them.  I  go  into  a  farm  house;  the  people  sit 
silently  around  a  room,  a  girl  picks  foolish 
tunes  from  a  zither,  the  feeble-minded  grand- 
father wanders  from  window  to  window  ask- 
ing for  the  sun.  And  in  all  these  things  there 
is  a  bigger  meaning,  a  certain  great"  relation 
to  the  mountains  and  to  the  primary  signifi- 
cance of  life.  One  feels  the  relation  of  the 
forms  of  birds,  flowers,  animals,  trees,  of 
everything  that  grows  and  breathes  to  each 
other  and  to  the  earth  and  sky." 

"This  I  get  from  the  world  about  me,  and 
this  I  seek  to  give  back  again  through  my  pic- 
tures." 

We  look  at  "Dance  Interpretation — Inven- 
tion'' (Fig.  227),  by  Man  Ray,  and  then  read 
the  explanation  of  its  meaning.  Mr.  Ray 
says: 

"Throughout  time  painting  has  alternately 
been  put  to  the  service  of  the  church,  the  state, 
arms,  individual  patronage,  nature  apprecia- 
tion, scientific  phenomena,  anecdote  and  deco- 
ration.'' 

"But  all  the  marvellous  works  that  have  been 
painted,  whatever  the  source  of  inspiration, 


300       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

still  live  for  us  because  of  absolute  qualities 
they  possess  in  common." 

''The  creative  force  and  the  expressiveness 
of  painting  reside  materially  in  the  colour  and 
the  texture  of  pigment,  in  the  possibilities  of 
form  invention  and  organisation,  and  in  the  flat 
.  plane  on  which  these  elements  are  brought  to 

''The  artist  is  concerned  solely  with  linking 
these  absolute  qualities  directly  to  his  wit,  im- 
agination and  experience,  without  the  go-be- 
tween of  a  'subject.'  Working  on  a  single  plane 
as  the  instantaneously  visualising  factor,  he 
realises  his  mind  motives  and  physical  sensa- 
tions in  a  permanent  and  universal  language 
of  colour,  texture  and  form  organisation.  He 
uncovers  the  pure  plane  of  expression  that  has 
so  long  been  hidden  by  the  glazings  of  nature 
imitation,  anecdote  and  the  other  popular  sub- 
jects." 

"Accordingly  the  artist's  work  is  to  be  meas- 
ured by  the  vitality,  the  invention  and  the  defi- 
niteness  and  conviction  of  purpose  within  its 
own  medium." 

In  "Adolescence"  (Fig.  228),  by  S.  Macdon- 
ald-Wright,  is  illustrated  the  underlying  prin- 
ciple in  Mr.  Wright's  paintings.   He  says : 

"I  strive  to  divest  my  art  of  all  anecdote  and 
illustration,  and  to  purify  it  to  the  point  where 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  301 


the  emotions  of  the  spectator  will  be  wholly 
aesthetic,  as  when  listening  to  good  music." 

''Since  plastic  form  is  the  basis  of  enduring 
art,  and  since  the  creation  of  intense  form  is 
impossible  without  colour,  I  first  determined, 
by  years  of  colour  experimentation,  the  rela- 
tive spatial  relation  of  the  entire  colour  gamut. 
By  placing  pure  colours  on  recognisable  forms 
(that  is,  by  placing  advancing  colour  on  ob- 
jects, and  retreating  colours  on  retreating  ob- 
jects), I  found  that  such  colours  destroyed  the 
sense  of  reality,  and  were  in  turn  destroyed 
by  the  illusive  contour.  Thus,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  colour,  in  order  to  function 
significantly,  must  be  used  as  an  abstract 
medium.  Otherwise  the  picture  appeared  to 
me  merely  as  a  slight,  lyrical  decoration.'' 

''Having  always  been  more  profoundly 
moved  by  pure  rhythmic  form  (as  in  music) 
than  by  associative  processes  (such  as  poetry 
calls  up),  I  cast  aside  as  nugatory  all  natural 
representation  in  my  art.  However,  I  still  ad- 
hered to  the  fundamental  laws  of  composition 
(placements  and  displacements  of  mass  as  in 
the  human  body  in  movement),  and  created 
my  pictures  by  means  of  colour- form  which, 
by  its  organisation  in  three  dimensions,  re- 
sulted in  rhythm." 

"Later,  recognising  that  painting  may  extend 


302       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

itself  onto  time,  as  well  as  being  a  simultane- 
ous presentation,  I  saw  the  necessity  for  a  for- 
mal climax  which,  through  being  ever  in  mind 
as  the  final  point  of  consummation,  would  serve 
as  a  point  from  which  the  eye  would  make  ex- 
cursions into  the  ordered  complexities  of  the 
picture's  rhythm.  Simultaneously  my  inspira- 
tion to  create  came  from  a  visualisation  of  ab- 
stract forces  interpreted,  through  colour  juxta- 
positions, into  terms  of  the  visual.  In  them 
was  always  a  goal  of  finality  which  perfectly 
accorded  with  my  felt  need  in  picture  construc- 
tion.'' 

"By  the  above  one  can  see  that  I  strive  to 
make  my  art  bear  the  same  relation  to  painting 
that  polyphony  bears  to  music.  Illustrative 
music  is  a  thing  of  the  past:  it  has  become  ab- 
stract and  purely  aesthetic,  dependent  for  its 
effect  upon  rhythm  and  form.  Painting  cer- 
tainly need  not  lag  behind  music." 

Morgan  Russell,  in  "Cosmic  Synchromy" 
(Fig.  229),  has  given  clearly  the  keynote 
of  his  art.    Mr.  Russell  says: 

"My  first  synchromies  represented  a  per- 
sonal manner  of  visualising  by  colour  rhythms ; 
hence  my  treatment  of  light  by  multiple  rain- 
bow-like colour-waves  which,  expanding  into 
larger  undulations,  form  the  general  composi- 
tion." 


Fig.  228 — Adolescence,  Wright. 


AND  THEIR  PAINTERS  303 

''In  my  next  step  I  was  concerned  with  the 
elimination  of  the  natural  object  and  with  the 
retention  of  colour  rhythms.  An  example  of 
this  period  is  the  Cosmic  Synchromy.  The 
principal  idea  in  this  canvas  is  a  spiral  plunge 
into  space,  excited  and  quickened  by  appropri- 
ate colour  contrasts." 

"In  my  latest  development  I  have  sought  a 
'form'  which,  though  necessarily  archaic, 
would  be  fundamental  and  permit  a  steady  evo- 
lution, in  order  to  build  something  at  once 
Dionysian  and  architectural  in  shape  and 
colour." 

''Furthermore  I  have  been  striving  for  a 
greater  intensity  of  pictorial  aspect.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  cathedral  organs  were  louder 
than  the  sounds  then  heard  in  life;  and  men 
were  made  to  feel  the  order  in  nature  through 
the  dominating  ordered  notes  of  the  organ. 
But  to-day  the  chaotic  sounds  and  lights  in 
our  daily  experience  are  intenser  than  those 
in  art.  Therefore  art  must  be  raised  to  the 
higher  intensity  if  it  is  to  dominate  life  and 
give  us  a  sense  of  order." 

"Much  has  been  said  concerning  the  role  of 
intellect  in  painting.  Common  sense  teaches 
that  the  mind's  analytic  and  synthetic  powers, 
like  vigorous  draughts  of  fresh  air,  kill  the 
feeble  and  invigourate  the  strong.   The  strong 


304       AMERICAN  PICTURES 

assimilate  the  suggestions  of  reason  to  their 
creative  reactions :  the  feeble  superimpose  rea- 
son on  their  pictures,  thus  petrifying  their 
work  and  robbing  it  of  any  organic  unity. 
This  unity  is  a  necessity  to  all  great  art  and 
results  only  from  a  creative  vision  handling 
the  whole  surface  with  supple  control." 

"I  infuse  my  own  vitality  into  my  work  by 
means  of  my  sense  of  relations  and  adjust- 
ments. The  difference  between  a  picture  pro- 
duced by  precise  formulas  and  one  which  is 
the  result  of  senesihilite,  is  the  difference  be- 
tween a  mechanical  invention  and  a  living  or- 
ganism." 

'While  there  will  probably  always  be  illus- 
trative pictures,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this 
century  may  see  the  flowering  of  a  new  art  of 
forms  and  colours  alone.  Personally,  I  be- 
lieve the  non-illustrative  painting  is  the  purest 
manner  of  aesthetic  expression,  and  that,  pro- 
vided the  basic  demands  of  great  composition 
are  adhered  to,  the  emotional  effect  will  be 
even  more  intense  than  if  there  was  present 
the  obstacle  of  representation.  Colour  is  form ; 
and  in  my  attainment  of  abstract  form  I  use 
those  colours  which  optically  correspond  to  the 
spatial  extension  of  the  forms  desired." 


INDEX 


Abbey,  Edwin  Austin,  so,  151,  i5S 
Alexander,  John  W.,  91.  i49.  164- 

169,  178 

Angelo,  Michael,  25,  105,  159,  222 
Beal,  Gifford,  228,  231-233 
Bealtx,  Cecilia,  203-206 
Beckwith,  Carroll,  113,  114 
Bellows,  George,  228-229 
Benson,  Frank  W.,  171.  181,  182- 
184,  226 

Benton,  Thomas  H.,  292,  296-298 
Bernstein,  Theresa,  270,  278-279 
BiERSTADT,  Albert,  37.  46 
BiTTiNGER,  Charles  F.,  270,  274-275 
Blakelock,  Ralph  Albert,  121-123 
Blashfield,  Edwin  H.,  150-151 
Blum,  Robert  Frederick,  164,  169- 
170 

BoHM,  Max,  220,  221-222 
Boldini,  Giovanni,  87-88 
Boronda,  Lester,  270,  275-276 
Boston,  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  30, 

64,  75,  76,  84,  92,  158,  164 
Brooklyn,  Institute  of  Arts  and 

Sciences,  66,  80,  86,  89,  90,  117 
Brown,  Roy,  234,  240 
Brush,   George   DeForest,  105, 

106-107 

Buffalo,  Albright  Art  Gallery, 

147,  174.  179,  192 
BuNCE,  William  Gedney,  56,  62-63 
Burroughs,  Bryson,  250,  254-257 
Carlsen,  Emil,  32,  134-135 
Carlson,  Charles  F.,  188,  199-200 
Cassatt,  Mary,  203,  209-212,  230 
Chase,  William  Merritt,  i  13-120, 

158,  172,  198,  208-209,  236,  245, 

261,  272 

Chicago,  Art  Institute,  32,  52,  54, 

57,  95,  112,  114,  143,  202,  228 
Church,  Frederick  E.,  39,  40-41 
Cincinnati  Museum,  102,  103,  168, 

170,  196,  200 


Cole,  Thomas,  38-41 
Coleman,  Charles  Caryl,  71,  77-78 
CoNGDON,  Thomas  R.,  280,  282-284 
Copley,  John  Singleton,  21,  26-28 
CousE,  E,  Irving,  250,  251-254 
Cox,  Kenyon,  hi,  117-118 
Crane,  Bruce,  132,  137-138 
Daingerfield,  Elliott,  122,  132, 
136-137 

Davey,  Randall,  280,  289-290 
Davies,  Arthur  B.,  220-221 
Davis,  Charles  H.,  139-145,  146 
Dearth,  Henry  Golden,  260,  261, 
262 

DeCamp,  Joseph,  171,  180 
Dessar,  Louis  Paul,  234,  238 
Detroit,  Museltm  of  Art,  108,  109, 

119,  123,  186,  235 
Dewey,  Charles  Melville,  121, 

130-131 

Dewing,  Thomas  W.,  71,  178-180 
Dougherty,  Paul,  242,  247-248 
Doughty,  Thomas,  39,  41 
Duveneck,  Frank,  99,  102-104,  179 
Eyre,  Elizabeth,  280,  285-286 
Fort  Worth,  Texas,  Public  Li- 
brary, 32,  34,  49,  189,  194,  248 
Foster,  Ben,  132,  134 
Fry,  John  Hemming,  280,  284-285 

Frieseke,  Frederick  Carl,  220, 
222-224 

Fuller,  George,  71-73 

Gainsborough,  Thomas,  26,  174 

Garber,  Daniel,  234,  239 

Genth,  Lillian,  213,  215-216 

Groll,  Albert  L.,  213-214 

Harrison,  Birge,  188,  197-198 

Harrison,    Thomas  Alexander, 

105-106 
Hassam,  Childe,  171-177 

Hawthorne,  Charles  W.,  203,  206- 
209 


306 


INDEX 


Henri,  Robert,  236,  260,  263-266, 
294 

Hill,  Thomas,  39.  46-47 
Homer,  Winslow,  64-70,  247 
Hopkins,  James  R.,  234,  237-238 
HovENDEN,  Thomas,  99-100 
Hudson  River  School,  39,  55 
Hunt,  William  Morris,  39,  43-46 
Indianapolis,  John  Herron  Insti- 
tute, 114, 115, 124, 160, 191, 196 
Inness,  George,  48-55,  56,  61,  129 
Inness,  George,  Jr.,  132,  133 
Johnson,  Eastman,  71,  73-74 
Keith,  William,  56-59 
Koopman,  Augustus,  242,  248-249 
Kroll,  Albert  Leon,  213,  218-219 
La  Farge,  John,  79-86 
Lathrop,  William  R.,  132,  136 
Leigh,  William  R.,  250-251 
Leutze,  Emanuel,  39,  41-42,  73 
Lever,  Harley,  242,  243-244 
Lie,  Jonas,  213,  216-218 
LuKs,  George,  228,  229-230 
Macbeth  Gallery,  New  York  City 
62,  8s,  128,  129.  133,  134.  135. 
142,  182,  184,  187.  199.  214,  221, 
224,  226,  238 
MacCameron,  Robert,  220,  225- 
226 

McLean,  Jean,  228,  233 
Marin,  John,  292,  294-296 
Marr,  Carl,  105,  109-111 
Martin,  Homer  D.,  56,  59-60 
Melchers,  Gari,  105,  107-109 
Metcalf,  Willard  L.,  171, 181, 186- 
187 

Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  28, " 
29,  39,  41,  42,  51,  59.  62,  68,  72, 
97,  loi,  103,  104,  105,  no,  113, 
118,  120,  137,  141.  154.  155.  163, 
165,  167,  177,  182,  205,  207,  210, 
220,  226,  235,  238,  239.  257.  260, 
262, 281 

Miller,  Richard  E.,  220,  224-225 
Millet,  Frank  Davis,  99,  101-102 
Millet,  Jean-Franqois,  43-46,  220 
Milwaukee,  Layton  Art  Gallery, 
54,  6s,  no 

Minneapolis,  Institute  of  Art, 
109,  144,  189 


Mora,  F.  Luis,  220,  226-227 
MoRAN,  Thomas,  39,  47 
MosLER,  Henry,  99,  loo-ioi 
Murphy,  J.  Francis,  21,  128-129 
Muskegon,  Michigan,  Gallery  of 

Fine  Arts,  91,  120 
New  Orleans,  Delgado  Museum 

OF  Art,  198,  249,  264 
New  York  City  (see  Metropolitan 

Museum  of  Art) 
Norton,  Clara  Mamre,  260,  269 
NouRSE,  Elizabeth,  228,  230-231 
Ochtman,  Leonard,  188,  194-19S, 

245 

Parrish,  Maxfield,  250,  257-259 
Peale,  Charles  Wilson,  21,  28-29 
Pearson,  Joseph  T.,  Jr.,  270-272 
Pennell,  Joseph,  90,  280 
Peterson,  Jane,  270,  276-278 
Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania  Acad- 
emy OF  Fine  Arts,  25,  37,  116, 
205,  270 

Philadelphia,  Wilstach  Gallery, 
96 

Pittsburgh,  Carnegie  Institute, 
35.  68,  94.  153.  174.  184,  197 

Ranger,  Henry  W.,  139,  145-149 

Ray,  Man,  292,  299-300 

Redfield,  Edward  W.,  188,  191-194 

Reid,  Robert,  171,  181,  185-186 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  23,  26,  176 

Robinson,  Theodore,  105 

Rochester,  Memorial  Art  Gal- 
lery, 32,  215,  216,  225 

Rosen,  Charles,  188,  198-199 
Rouland,  Orlando,  280,  287-289 
Russell,  Morgan,  292,  302-304 
Ryder,  Albert  P.,  79,  86-87 
Ryder,  Chauncy,  188,  200-202 
St.  Louis,  City  Art  Museum,  50, 

73.  82,  128,  133 
Sacramento,  California,  Crocker 

Art  Gallery,  46 
San  Francisco,  Institute  of  Art, 

58,  59 

Sargent,  John  Singer,  113,  157-163 
Schofield,  W.  Elmer,  188,  19S-197 
Seyffert,  Leopold,  260,  267-269 
Simmons,  Edward  E.,  171,  181,  187 
Sloan,  John,  280,  281-282 


INDEX 


307 


Snedecor   Gallery,    New  York 

City,  51.  68,  250 
Snell,  Henry  B.,  242-243 
Speicher,  Eugene,  234,  239-240 
Spencer,  Robert,  234-236 
Stuart,  Gilbert,  30-36 
Sully,  Thomas,  30,  36-37 
Symons,  Gardner,  188,  189-190 
Syracuse,  Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 

128,  141,  14s.  177.  206,  233 
Tack,  Augustus  Vincent,  270,  272- 

273 

Tanner,  Henry  O.,  105,  111-112 
Tarbell,  Edmund  C.,  171,  i8r,  182, 

184-185,  226,  269 
Texas  (see  Fort  Worth) 
Thayer,  Albert  H.,  99,  104 
Toledo,  Museum  of  Art,  121,  126, 

149,  178,  197 
Trumbull,  John,  21,  28-29,  39 

Tryon,  D wight  William,  121,  123- 
127,  171 

Turner,  Helen  M.,  260,  262-265 
Twachtman,  John  H.,  171,  172, 181- 
182 

Ultra  Modern  Art,  292-304 


Van  Lear,  Alexander,  132,  135-136 
Vedder,  Elihu,  71,  74-77 
VoLK,  Douglas,  150,  155-156 
Walker,  Horatio,  132,  133-134 
Walter,  Martha,  260,  266-267 
Washington,  D.  C.,  Corcoran  Gal- 
lery OF  Art,  40,  48,  173,  196, 
197,  289 

Washington,  D.  C,  National  Gal- 
lery, 244 
Waugh,  Frederick  J.,  242,  245-247 
Way,  Thomas  A.,  96 
West,  Benjamin,  22,  26 
Whistler,  James  Abbott  McNeill, 

60,  88-98,  280 
Weir,  J.  Alden,  171,  177-178,  272 
Wiggins,  Carleton,  121,  125^130 
Wiles,  Irving  R.,  260-261 
Williams,  Frederick  Ballard,  213, 
214-215 

Worcester,  Art  Museum,  26,  33, 

45.  67,  125 
Wright,  McDonald  S.,  292, 300-302 
Wyant,  Alexander,  56,  59-62 
Yates,  Cullen,  242,  244-245 
ZoRACH,  William,  292,  298-299 


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